Ten

We were making our video in English when Simon arrived back at school.

‘I know it’s the last week of term, but we can get a couple of scenes done,’ Ms Kidman said. ‘Then you can spend the holidays deciding whether you deserve an Oscar.’

‘An Oscar?’ asked Nelita. ‘You mean an Oscar like the Hollywood stars get?’

‘No,’ said Ms Kidman. ‘I mean Oscar like in Overacted, Sloppy, Careless And Ridiculous. Now for goodness’ sake, let’s get organised!’

You can’t really blame Ms Kidman for getting her liver in a quiver. Making videos is a tricky business where our school is concerned.

Just last year, the sixth form (Kirsti was in it, that’s how I know) decided they were going to make a video of the Shakespeare play they were studying. It was called Hamlet, and there’s one scene in it where the chief dude is watching a couple of grave-diggers working in a new grave. The play’s set way back in the days before colour TV, so I suppose people had to find different ways of having fun then.

The easiest place to dig a grave on our school grounds is the long-jump pit. The sixth form got a bit carried away, and dug out the whole pit. Then it rained, and next thing you know, there’s a new, oblong freshwater lake on the map. Mr Johnston lined the sixth form up in front of the pit, and said they could either put the dirt back in it, or put themselves in it.

Then it turned out this Hamlet play needed some human bones and skulls. These aren’t always easy to get hold of, even in our town. Luckily, one of the sixth form girls lived on a farm, and she said she’d see what she could manage. When the video was finished, everybody could see what she’d managed. The video should have been called Piglet, not Hamlet.

So Ms Kidman insisted that our video was going to be properly organised before we started. We’d decided on the story. Or rather, Ms Kidman and all the girls in the class had decided on the story. It was going to be about the Women’s Suffragette Movement.

Suffragettes aren’t women who make men suffer, as Haare pretended to believe. They were the women who first demanded the right to vote, and they had all these pretty impressive demos and marches to make their opinions public. Good on them, I reckon.

‘Fair enough,’ said Haare, when he heard all this. ‘Maybe we can call the video Revenge of the Amazon Women.’ You can see that Simon has a bad effect on some of his less strong-minded friends.

While he was away, there was quite a lot of argument in class about whether there could be a part for Simon in the video. All the rest of us were going to be in it, even if it was just in the crowd scenes, but the Suffragette business was about 1900-1910, and as someone said, they didn’t have electric wheelchairs then.

Becky and Todd and some others reckoned there must be some way you could fit Simon in, even if you just showed him in a head and shoulders shot, or maybe sitting behind a table. But most of the others reckoned it couldn’t be done without having to change the whole story. Ms Kidman stayed out of the discussion, but she was listening hard.

While the others were talking, I was remembering.

I was remembering what Mrs Mason fed into her information chain once, about how Simon was always missing out when he was a little kid about eight or nine or so, and was trying to get along on crutches.

Mrs Mason said that she’d see other kids coming to play at Simon’s, and they’d all muck about there perfectly happily for a while. Then suddenly they’d decide they wanted to play on Dean’s swing or on Tasha’s slide, and they’d all go tearing off to those places, the way little kids do. All of them except Simon, who couldn’t tear off anywhere. Mrs Mason said he’d just watch them go without saying anything, and then he’d slowly swing himself back inside on his crutches.

And suddenly I heard myself say, ‘You can’t leave him out!’

Everyone stared at me. Jason’s mouth wasn’t the only one hanging open. I felt a fool, but I knew what I meant. ‘He’s in this class, isn’t he? And this is supposed to be a class video. You can’t leave him out!’

Most of them still just stared at me, but Nelita and a few others nodded. Ms Kidman nodded too, and smiled. Then Haare said, ‘Right on, Nathan,’ and the others started making I agree noises. I was glad I’d said it.

Nelita, who has some quite sensible ideas sometimes, said we could fold rugs over the modern parts of Simon’s chair, and he could be a wounded war hero. And I bet he gets fussed over by Brady and the other girls, I thought.

We shot the first scene on Wednesday morning, on the front drive. It was meant to be a big Suffragette protest rally in a town where a government official was visiting. Alex Wilson was the bullying, beefy, big-headed official (great character casting by Ms Kidman), and Jason was his thick-brained assistant (same again).

The girls were the protestors, naturally. They’d all got themselves long dresses that reached right down to the ground, and they really looked the part, though Haare and Todd and I agreed it was a pity to hide Brady’s legs. The rest of us guys were a crowd of yobby onlookers (more excellent casting).

Things went pretty smoothly at first. Even Jason didn’t forget a single one of his lines. Actually, Jason didn’t have any lines. Alex the government official arrived and was booed by the Suffragettes. The Suffragettes were booed by the yobby onlookers. Ms Kidman said we’d have to do the take again because a couple of fifth formers had gone wandering past and she thought they were probably on the video. Ms Kidman and the fifth formers were booed by everyone.

We were taking our second take when Simon arrived. We guys acting the yobby onlookers were facing towards the school’s front entrance, and I saw the Shaws’ van pull up.

Mrs Shaw, who was driving, obviously saw the Suffragette stirrers in action. You couldn’t help seeing them. You couldn’t help hearing them, either. They were chanting ‘Votes for us now! Votes for us now!’ We guys were chanting back ‘Vote for a cow! Vote for a cow!’, which made Ms Kidman look a bit thoughtful at first, but she let us carry on.

Mrs Shaw stopped the van just by the entrance to the drive. She went round the back and opened the doors. Simon came down on his hoist, and he and his mother watched what was going on. They must have thought the class had gone mental while Simon was in hospital.

Then Mrs Shaw said something to Simon, got back in the van, and drove away. Simon started whirring along the drive towards the girls, who were blocking the way. I say he started whirring, but you couldn’t hear him over the noise of the chanting. The girls couldn’t see him, either, because they had their backs to him. Anyway, they were too busy yelling and shaking their fists at Alex and Jason and us. Alex was looking a bit nervous. I think he was hoping they’d remember it was just a video.

Simon came right up behind the back row of girls. I saw his lips moving, so I guess he was asking if he could drive through. They still didn’t hear him. I saw him shrug his shoulders (his right shoulder wasn’t in a sling any longer), and start turning his wheelchair to drive around the outside of them.

The wheelchair brakes must have jammed, just as they did that other time. Simon’s chair started to turn around, then it gave a jerk, slewed slightly the other way, and drove gently into the back row of girls.

To be exact, it drove gently into the back of Brady West’s knees. I heard her squeak in the middle of the chanting. She tried to jump away from whatever it was that was attacking her, but she couldn’t move quickly because of her long skirt.

As the wheelchair kept coming forward, Brady’s legs buckled, and she folded gently down into Simon’s lap. Without thinking what she was doing – I hope so, anyway – she threw her arms around Simon’s neck for something to hang on to.

The Suffragettes in the front row must have sensed something was happening behind them, because they opened up on either side. Simon’s wheelchair, carrying Simon, and Brady in Simon’s lap, came on straight through them and towards the government official and his assistant. The government official got out of the way smartly. His assistant (it was Jason, after all) stood staring until the wheelchair clipped him across the inside of one knee.

As Simon struggled with the brake control, the chair rolled smoothly towards Ms Kidman and the video camera. Simon gave a furious push at his left-hand lever, and the chair halted half a metre away from our English teacher. Brady shot out of Simon’s lap as if she’d been stung. Her fair hair had come loose and was tumbling all down her back, and her eyes were enormous. She looked … spectacular.

‘There you are, lady,’ said Simon to her. ‘That’ll be a dollar for the taxi fare.’

The great thing about making a video, of course, is that you can run it back and replay it straight away. After Simon’s charge of the light brigade, there was nothing else we possibly could do, anyway. The whole class trooped back inside, where Ms Kidman slipped the cassette into the player.

It was fantastic. Brady hid her face in her hands and wouldn’t look. The rest of us whistled and cheered as Simon came trundling out through the ranks of Suffragettes (‘like a kamikaze pilot who can’t get liftoff,’ said Haare) with Brady desperately holding on.

‘Simon, you certainly know how to sweep a girl off her feet,’ Ms Kidman told him.

The best thing of all was that we were able to keep the scene for the final video. Brady’s long skirt hid the controls on the wheelchair, and the rest of Brady hid all of Simon except his face, so you couldn’t see his school jacket.

‘We’ll say you’re an old soldier from the Crimean War,’ Ms Kidman suggested to Simon. ‘And you’ve got no patience with this votes-for-women business.’

‘Do I get another medal for leading this afternoon’s attack, then?’ Simon wanted to know.

‘I was the one who got attacked!’ Brady told him.

‘Yeah, but I’m the one who was wounded,’ said Simon. ‘I mean, I did get squashed.’

Todd and Haare and Jason and I looked backwards and forwards at one another. I suspect we were thinking that we wouldn’t bother about any medals if we had the chance of getting squashed by Brady West.

Simon and I are going to see hardly anything of each other during the holidays. I’m going to be down with Dad for the first week. Then in the second week, Simon’s off to this Paritai Home for Disabled Children. It’s a sort of holiday home where kids can go and give their families a break. Mr and Mrs Shaw and Kirsti are having a week in the city on their own.

Simon’s pleased they’re going to go away. He says that when he first started suffering from MD, Kirsti had to take second place in everything. It was always Simon who had the first shower, Simon who was allowed to choose what TV programme they’d have on, Simon who had the bigger birthday party.

Then one weekend, after Simon had been allowed to choose where they were going on Sunday, Mr Shaw suddenly said, ‘Hey, this isn’t fair on Kirsti.’

‘No,’ said Kirsti. ‘And it isn’t fair on Simon, either.’ She was right, too, Simon reckons. It’s good to have to wait your turn sometimes.

Anyway, the Shaws and us role-players are all going to send Simon postcards. ‘Feelthy postcards, please,’ he says. So are some of the other kids in the class.

I don’t know if Brady is. I let slip very casually to her that I’d be away too, for the first week, but she didn’t say anything and she didn’t ask for my address. Oh well.