Harry: Harry Read online

  By the time people near me were presenting, class was nearly over. I needed to get out before it was my turn. I’d go to the bathroom. Yeah, that was it. I’d just go and sit in the bathroom until art was over and then maybe I’d stay in there until school was over. In fact, maybe I’d just fall into the toilet and never come out! That’d be better than telling Mr Slater and everyone else in the class that I didn’t have anything to show.

  Then Josie Yang was up. She cleared her throat. ‘I call this one Magical-Fairy-Pony-Rainbow.’

  Big surprise, everyone loved it. My stomach twisted and turned like a small boat in a big storm. I tried not to puke, shooting my hand up after the massive applause settled.

  ‘Yes, Harry? Would you like to go next?’

  ‘Uh, no, Mr Slater.’ I swallowed. ‘I’m really busting and I just need to –’

  ‘Yeah, c’mon Harry!’ Lou piped up. ‘Show us what you’ve done, dude!’

  ‘Don’t be such a scaredy-cat!’ Eddie jeered, slapping me on the shoulder.

  My heart was thumping. I anxiously looked at Mr Slater.

  ‘It’ll only be quick, Harry. We’re nearly at the end of class. Show us what you’ve done, and then you can go to the toilet,’ he told me with a warm smile.

  Everyone was quiet, waiting for me to present. I couldn’t lie. I couldn’t run. I couldn’t hide. There was no getting out of this one and I had nobody to blame but myself. If only I wasn’t too scared to show my drawing of stupid Cosmic Samurai in the first place none of this would have happened.

  Hunched over in my chair, I blinked with watery eyes. I glanced at Mr Slater, who stood at the front of the class expectantly.

  ‘Well?’ he asked.

  This was the most embarrassing moment of my entire life.

  As I spoke, it felt like I was drowning. Maybe being a submarine wasn’t so great.

  ‘I don’t have anything to present, Mr Slater.’

  Everyone was quiet. Eddie kept his mouth shut. Lou’s smile faded. Mr Slater crossed his arms.

  ‘All right. Harry, I’d like you to stay behind so we can have a little chat. Everyone else, enjoy your lunch.’

  Chairs scraped across the floor and chatter started up again as everyone left the room. I hung my head in shame.

  Lou was the last one out.

  ‘Come find us when you’re done, Harry,’ he said to me as Mr Slater closed the door.

  Giving me a short wave and a faint smile through the glass, he left me in the hands of Mr Slater. Again.

  Mr Slater walked over to the whiteboard at the front of the class, leaning against it and tapping his fingers together.

  ‘Harry . . .’ he started. His hot chocolate voice had turned ice-cold. ‘Let’s talk.’

  Against his instruction, I stayed silent. There was nothing for me to say.

  ‘You’re a bright young boy. Something tells me you didn’t forget about the homework.’

  I muttered ‘no’ under my breath.

  ‘I can’t hear you when you’re talking to the floor,’ Mr Slater told me.

  I clenched my jaw, facing him. ‘No, I didn’t forget.’

  ‘Then why can’t you show your homework?’

  I wanted to tell Mr Slater all about my super-cool Cosmic Samurai drawing. I wanted to tell him how good it was. I wanted to tell him how I got so afraid of what everyone would think that I wrecked it because I didn’t want to get judged and laughed at.

  But I didn’t.

  ‘It fell out of my bag when I was walking to school. I didn’t do up the zips properly.’

  Mr Slater didn’t buy one lousy word of my lie – I knew because he had the same look in his eye as Mum when I told her the cleaning lady must have been the one who was raiding the secret stash of chocolate biscuits. (Of course it was me.)

  ‘I’m not going to sit here and tell you why I know you’re not being truthful to me, Harry . . .’ he said, walking to the door. ‘Instead, I’ll say this. Even though art isn’t some people’s favourite subject, everyone brought something along. If they put in effort, so can you.’

  I gulped.

  Mr Slater chuckled heartily. ‘What you did to Darcy’s drawing was excellent work, Harry, there’s no doubt about that . . . it was just on the wrong piece of paper.’

  Excellent work or not, I was still in big trouble.

  ‘For something like this, I would usually have to call your mum.’

  I hung my head. ‘Okay, Mr Slater.’ There was nothing I could do.

  He leant down to face me. ‘But I won’t.’

  ‘Why . . . ?’ I asked, my face flushed.

  ‘Because you’re a good kid. You don’t bully anyone, you don’t answer back to teachers, and you certainly haven’t scratched drawings into any desks.’

  Well . . . maybe I did once or twice. But Mr Slater didn’t need to know that.

  ‘I know that if you put your mind to it, you could make some really great art.’

  He stood, walking towards the door. ‘I’ll keep this discussion our secret. Just bring something to my office tomorrow at recess.’

  He leaned down so his eyes were level with mine. ‘Do we have an agreement, Harry?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Slater.’

  He clapped his hands together. ‘Fantastic! Glad that’s settled. I don’t like having serious discussions, they make me lose my appetite.’ He opened the door. ‘Now, I believe there’s someone that you’d like to say sorry to. Darcy’s at the sandpit. Meet me there in five minutes.’

  After all that, I still had to say sorry to Darcy.

  It’s not like the worst day of my life could get any worse, right?

  I left the art room and went to my locker, grabbing the sandwich Mum packed for me. Heading out into the schoolyard, I practically hid my face behind the thin slices of bread because I thought my classmates would be pointing or laughing at me.

  Much to my surprise, everyone was just going about their usual lunchtime routine when I walked outside. I was still a submarine.

  Eddie, Gregor and Lou sat on the bench near the playground tanbark. Lou tossed the red downball in his hand.

  ‘Harry, you’re out!’ he called out. ‘Come play with us!’

  Huh . . . he still wanted to be my friend after all that?

  Lou smiled as I walked over.

  ‘What’s the deal with your homework, dude?’ he asked me. ‘I thought you’d bring in something really cool.’

  I shrugged, scratching my neck.

  ‘I thought I would as well.’

  ‘Eh, it’s all right,’ Eddie said. ‘I haven’t brought in my maths homework for three classes in a row. I just really don’t like numbers.’

  ‘This one time I ate some pages out of my Italian book so I wouldn’t have to do work in class,’ Gregor said. ‘Everyone shows up without homework sometimes.’

  ‘Yeah man. My dog ate this short story I wrote for English last week,’ Lou chimed in. ‘Not even kidding. It happens to all of us.’ He held out a hand to the Dunce square. ‘So you wanna play?’

  Looking over at the playground, I saw Darcy sitting in the sandpit. He was still playing with his Lego, like he was at recess. Maybe he was a submarine as well. Like Lou. Like Gregor. Like Eddie. Like me.

  Mr Slater stood close by, leaning up against one of the wooden poles holding up the sunshade. He waved me over.

  As much as I wanted to go play downball behind the sports shed with my friends, I couldn’t. I thought about what Cosmic Samurai would do. He has a code of honour. If he drew on someone else’s painting, he would go and say sorry. No question. I had to do the right thing. I had to.

  I turned to my friends. ‘Look . . . so . . . I can’t play right now . . .’

  ‘Where are you going, Harry?’ Lou asked.

  I jerked my thumb to the sandpit. ‘I have something to do first.’

  With that, I walked to the sandpit, across the playground. Past Josie Yang and her skipping-rope tournament. Past Jack and the other sporty kids on the oval.
Past Fadi, busting his moves near the not-so-Quiet Time Quad.

  I stopped at the edge of the sandpit.

  Mr Slater looked at Darcy.

  ‘Darcy,’ he said. ‘There’s someone here who would like to talk with you.’

  For the second time that day, my heart was thumping. I cleared my throat.

  ‘Hey, Darcy,’ I said shakily.

  ‘Hi!’ he replied. One of his front teeth was missing, but that didn’t stop him from grinning the biggest grin I’ve ever seen. ‘Are you Harry?’

  ‘That’s me,’ I held out my hand. He shook it with his sandy one. ‘Whatcha doing over here?’

  ‘Making a fortress!’ he said enthusiastically. ‘Wanna help me?’

  ‘Uh . . .’ I looked around. Mr Slater nodded. I thought this was meant to be an apology, not a Lego build. ‘Sure.’

  I sat cross-legged across from Darcy.

  ‘So look . . .’ I started. He handed me some different coloured and shaped Lego bricks. ‘I just wanted to say that I shouldn’t have drawn on your picture. It was a pretty mean thing for me to do and I’m sorry.’

  He faced me, slotting a few bricks together. ‘It’s ’kay. I don’t mind. It looked cool. You drew aliens and stuff on it!’

  ‘Yeah, I guess I did.’

  ‘Can you help me build?’ Darcy asked.

  I looked at the bricks in my hands. They weren’t the same colours or shapes. I didn’t think they’d fit together.

  ‘Sure,’ I said.

  Mr Slater clicked his fingers. His furry moustache turned upwards as he grinned wildly. ‘Perfect! Now that you two boys are getting along, I can go have my lunch. I’ll tell Principal Davies about how well this went. Enjoy the Lego – it will unlock your creative young minds!’

  Then Mr Slater left Darcy and me alone, walking off through the playground. I’m pretty sure there was a skip in his step.

  I looked back at Darcy. ‘Who’s the fortress for?’ I asked.

  ‘Dunno,’ Darcy said. ‘I’m just making it for fun. You got any ideas?’

  As a matter of fact, I did.

  ‘How about this?’ I began. ‘There’s this dude called Cosmic Samurai. He rides around on the moon on a speedy hover-bike with a sword powered by lightning. He’s under attack by an entire alien-monster army led by their evil leader, the mutant space wizard. Cosmic Samurai needs to build a fortress to defend himself.’

  Darcy’s eyes lit up.

  ‘Cooooooooooool!’ he breathed, scooping up all the bricks he could fit into his tiny hands. ‘Then we need to make this quick before the bad aliens get in, right?’

  I laughed. ‘Yeah, right!’

  I couldn’t believe how excited Darcy was. I couldn’t believe how excited I was. I didn’t care about the colours or shapes of the bricks – none of it mattered. Cosmic Samurai needed protection and there was no way I was going to let him be eaten by aliens.

  So Darcy and I built all lunchtime. We made a giant castle and dug a deep trench out of sand around it. I didn’t notice, but the whole time we were building a small group of year twos and threes gathered around us.

  ‘That’s so awesome!’ one of them called out.

  ‘Can we help build your castle next lunch, Darcy?’ another asked.

  I looked at the circle of kids, then back at Darcy. He held up his hand, and I high-fived him.

  ‘You’re the coolest year five ever!’ he told me.

  For the first time at Monvale Primary, I actually felt like the coolest year five ever.

  After school ended that day, I got home in ten minutes.

  I ran as fast as I could, my loose school shoes clopping against the concrete. My bag swung wildly, hitting my butt with every jog.

  When I walked through the front door, I gave Mum a sweaty kiss on the cheek and didn’t even raid the secret cookie jar. My mind was buzzing like it was full of excited worker bees. Nothing else mattered when I was thinking about Cosmic Samurai.

  Mum made spaghetti for dinner that night. As I sat down to eat, my legs were jittery. All I wanted to do was keep drawing.

  ‘Muuuuuuuuuum, can I eat in my room so I can keep drawing? Please?’ I pleaded.

  She shook her head. I already knew the answer. ‘No,’ she replied. ‘We eat our dinner at the table like a family.’

  ‘But it’s just you and me!’ I argued.

  ‘Doesn’t mean we’re not a family,’ Mum said. That shut me up. I hung my head.

  After Mum took another few bites, she waved her fork in the air. ‘All right, Harry. If you insist on drawing right this second, during dinner, you can do it at the table.’

  ‘You’re the best, Mum!’ I blurted out, clambering off the chair.

  So I drew and ate at the dinner table at the same time, very careful not to flick any tomato sauce on the paper.

  I remember Mr Slater told our class once that he likes to sketch out his ideas before starting. He said it was kind of like building a house. Start with the foundations before putting on the walls and the roof. He called it the ‘Five P’s’ – Proper Planning Prevents Poor Performance.

  I drew at the dinner table all night. Sometimes Mum looked over my shoulder, but didn’t say anything. I didn’t say anything either. I was too focused. Except for when I fell asleep at the table.

  After Mum woke me up, she told me it was time for bed.

  Slipping under my covers, I didn’t feel like ripping up my drawing of Cosmic Samurai at all. It was even better than the one I drew the night before. Clearer lines. More detail in his armour. His laser pistol looked even more awesome than it did before.

  As I fell asleep, I’m pretty sure I was smiling from ear to ear.

  The next day, I left my English class a few minutes early so I’d arrive at Mr Slater’s office at the start of recess. I got there before him.

  His room was a lot smaller than Principal Davies’ one and a lot less scary. Everything was colourful and messy. Looking through the window in the door, I saw a couple of framed paintings hanging on the walls surrounded by kids’ artwork. His desk was scattered with colourful pencils and even more colourful sketches.

  ‘Ah, hello Harry!’ Mr Slater said, coming up the hallway. I waved with the folder holding my drawing, stepping aside as he unlocked the door. ‘I appreciate it when people are on time,’ he said. ‘If you’re ever looking to make a good impression, punctuality is key.’

  We walked into his office and he dropped his leather satchel next to the desk. ‘Now, I believe you have something to show me.’

  I was a bit shaky as I pulled my drawing out of the folder, handing it across to Mr Slater. He held it up as the light streamed in from the window behind him.

  ‘Wow,’ he muttered to himself. ‘Harry, this is quite fantastic!’

  ‘You think so?’

  ‘I know so,’ he replied. ‘Very impressive. I hope you’ll let me put it on display at the Monvale Art Fair next Monday.’

  Wait, what? No, no, no! He couldn’t do that!

  ‘Uh . . . I only wanted you to see it, Mr Slater.’

  ‘You don’t want to show your classmates?’

  ‘Not at all,’ I responded flatly. I thought back to our class at the start of the week. Why didn’t I remember that he wanted to put all of our pictures up at the art fair? Why did I even go to Mr Slater’s office in the first place?

  ‘Why’s that?’ he asked.

  Mr Slater was full of questions.

  ‘I just don’t want to, okay?’ I said. ‘It’s my picture and I don’t want people to see it.’

  ‘Are you scared of what everyone else will think?’

  Of course I was.

  I squished my face. ‘No?’ But Mr Slater would know I wasn’t telling the truth. Slumping in the chair, my hands dangled loosely. ‘Yeah, I’m scared,’ I said.

  Mr Slater sat in the chair opposite me, tapping my leg. ‘Do you remember our excursion at the beginning of the week, Harry?’

  More than anything. If it wasn’t for that stupid exh
ibition I wouldn’t have thought of Cosmic Samurai in the first place, and I wouldn’t have even had the idea to draw on Darcy’s picture, and I wouldn’t have embarrassed myself in front of the whole class.

  ‘You told me that “weird is bad”.’ He shifted forward in his seat. ‘Do you want to tell me what you meant by that?’

  No, I didn’t want to tell him, but there had been a lot of things that I didn’t want to do in the last week.

  Maybe I was finally leaving my comfort zone.

  ‘I just want people to leave me alone, Mr Slater,’ I said nervously. ‘I don’t want to be like Jack. Playing football on the oval only leads to cheering crowds. I don’t want to be like Fadi, because everyone hangs around with him at lunch while he dances to really loud music. Josie Yang is really good in all her classes and always wins the skipping rope competition. Being good at something means people will pay attention to me.’

  ‘So you think holding yourself back from doing what you enjoy will make you happy.’

  ‘I really like drawing, Mr Slater,’ I told him. ‘I just don’t want to show people.’

  ‘Because if you don’t show anyone that you like drawing, you won’t stand out? Right?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I replied. ‘How did you know . . . ?’

  ‘I was like you once, Harry – until I realised being different isn’t a bad thing, because everyone is different. If we all spent our lives trying to be the same as everyone else, the world would be a pretty boring place, eh?’

  ‘I guess so,’ I said faintly.

  ‘So,’ Mr Slater continued, ‘you don’t want to stand out and be different, because you think people won’t like you for it . . . but being different is what makes us who we are, Harry.’

  He picked up my drawing.

  ‘Are you happy with this picture, Harry?’

  ‘Yeah, I am.’

  ‘Good. That’s all that matters. If other people like it, that’s great. If they don’t, big deal. Never let the opinions of others stop you from doing what you want to do,’ Mr Slater said.

  The bell rang through the middle of our conversation. I must have been sitting there all recess. Mr Slater checked his watch.