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| THE WHEEL THING by Guy Russell He's basically all right, my Fairy Godfather, but I wouldn't want him to meet my mates. It's not that he's unfriendly. It's more the way he always turns up in a spangly tutu - with forty-grommet DMs - that gets to me. I mean, he is about six foot eight, with a massive beard. Still, penniless students can't be choosers. And at the end of the day, he's not that much more embarrassing than my mum and dad. You know, my dad has one of those jumpers with diamond shapes on the front. Need I say more? Anyway, the situation is this. I'm way out in a village with about three buses per year and my elder sisters both get use of our family's old car before I do, and they're always out. And it was Friday. And I was going to go down the club... Hmmph. Anyhow. I was lying there feeling seriously totally majorly sorry for myself when - whoomph. Barbie-coloured light, filling my room. A tinkling sound, like the first few bars of 'Hello Dolly!' A faint waft of Armani Attitude... And the man - if that's the right word? - himself crushing my mp3 player under his bovver-hoot as he beamed in. 'Jim!' I shouted. 'I mean, Fairy Godfather!' He likes being called by his proper title. I hadn't seen him for ages. He goes travelling, and to conferences. Apparently there's a fair-sized clique of fairy godparents around. They meet up, swap case-notes, discuss the price of wands... 'You were transmitting some extremely intense teenage distress signals, Ian.' Jim looked concerned, despite his dry manner. 'It must be a terribly serious crisis?' It certainly was, I told him. Couldn't go out. No transport. It might not sound like the end of the world to some people, but when you're seventeen - look, it is, all right? And Jim understands that. You see why I forgive the tutu and DMs? But you mustn't ask him for stuff. I'd learnt that long ago. You're supposed to tell him the situation and he devises an answer - though there's sometimes a catch. Now he was scratching his beard. 'Very well, Ian, bring me a - let's see. Do you have any old toy cars? And perhaps - a vegetable peeler? Meet me in the garage.' I didn't question. He's asked for much weirder things in the past. The Virgin Megastore plastic bag that became a Man U football strip. The bit of toilet paper that became a very rare Pokemon card. I went straight up to the attic and rummaged in the various boxes that held my childhood. I was sure I'd given all my old Matchbox stuff away. But I found one little red car. Then I sneaked into the kitchen, and borrowed the squat-handled veg peeler. I went through the door into the empty garage. I gave them to him. Jim put the toy on an oil stain in the middle of the concrete, and gave me back the peeler. He opened the garage door. 'Stand well back.' The pink light again. It's fairy energy, apparently... And whoomph! OK, I know. I treat him as a source of favours and gifts. Just as I do any other adult in the family. People all do sorts of kind things for you when you're young, for no reason it seems, except that you're young. And you get used to it, and you don't appreciate it... But this! 'Cheers, mate,' I said gruffly, 'That's nice!' I was pretty cool, all things considered. Because filling the garage was a shimmering fantastic metallic red vision of sublimely hip curvaceous style. With wheels on. 'Elfa Oberon 2.0i, 16V engine,' Jim expounded. 'Perimeter alarm, front map-reading lights, anti-lock brakes. Nought to sixty in-' 'All right,' I went. 'You're in the wrong job.' 'Another of my talents,' Jim said languidly. Then he got efficient. 'But you'll be late. Go. It's taxed and insured, but - be safe.' The peeler - you'd guessed - had become the key in my hand. I clicked the doors unlocked. I climbed in and eased the seat into position, adjusted the mirror, fitted the belt, and gazed in wonder at the feel-important dashboard. 'Ian, before you go...' I was already so into it that I was only half-listening. 'You need to be back at midnight. I only have it on a 4-hour agreement from Fairy Deal Hire. They repossess instantly. And I mean instantly.' 'Sure, Jim,' I said. 'I mean, FG. Thanks! See you later!' I sped out into the street, and through the rear-view saw him closing the garage door. Well, this wasn't like our old banger. It was brand new. I went through the gears. I cornered at speed. I, ahem, tested the brakes. I pressed every control I could find, to see what it did. I made the sunroof open and close and used the satellite navigation. I almost felt like not bothering with the club at all but just cruising along the ring road, maybe getting out to the dual-carriageway and across the downs. After all, it'd be the same old crowd there as always. But Jim'd given it me for a purpose. You have to respect that kind of thing. I felt pretty cool, to be honest, as I eased to a halt in the car park outside. I'd been able to drive for four months, but I'd never arrived anywhere in such style before. I got out, and - excellent - my mate Jack was there. 'That yours?' he gaped, as I locked it. 'No, I just got it for tonight,' I said casually. 'My Fai - I mean, my father's old school friend - lent it to me.' 'Lucky so-and-so!' We were standing there admiring it when this group of lasses walked past, and our attention switched. I knew them all - it's a small town - except for one, a long-haired girl who had this amazing golden minidress on, with knee-boots the same colour... They shimmered, like my car. 'Who's she?' I asked. But Jack didn't know either. Anyway, our little town doesn't produce much as far as nightlife goes. Normally in the club you just see everyone you know from the college. It's in what was once a cinema and the lights and that are not so great. The DJs are just our friends having a go on the decks. So it was the usual thing. But that night, it felt different. I felt that I'd been having a lucky evening, and maybe that took me out of myself, made me more confident than I often am. So when I saw the lass in the golden dress looking at me, I didn't start posing about and behaving like I was much to cool to talk to her, as I normally would, but I went over. Even though she was really good-looking! I don't know what came over me. She was called Jodi. 'Are you at the college?' I asked. 'Yeah, but I don't come here much,' she smiled. I could see that. She looked much too sophisticated for our group. But we danced. And we danced more. And I felt oddly at ease and in control, as though I could feel there was something intended about it. We danced fast. We danced faster. We rested. We danced slow. Whoa! The way her hair smelt. The skin on her neck. Whoa! Her incredible dress. Her lips. Her tongue! Hey, ice me down! The rest of the world kind of faded out. 'I've got a car,' I said. 'Yeah,' she went, 'I saw it outside. Let's go.' Wow! We said our goodbyes to our own friends, and they looked enviously at us leaving together, which was really excellent. I know, I know. How shallow we are, all of us! But it works, doesn't it? You'd say it was primeval, if you didn't know that cars have only been about for... well, not that long. But maybe in the past you had a cool black horse, or a streamlined racing chariot with hot-rod wheels, and that worked the same way. But History's not my subject. I'm for now. 'I've got to be back at midnight,' she said. 'Sure,' I said. It was only quarter to ten. We drove! We drove down to the drive-in and got some fries. We drove round the ring road and along by the river. Then we drove out up to the country park on the ridge and parked by the reservoir Across from the reservoir you could see the lights of our town, white and orange, and the surrounding night. As for what happened next, let's just say: the seats were really comfortable! And reclined a long way! And it was warm, with the heater on! And Jodi turned on the CD at one point and we snogged to a Travis album. OK, maybe that bit wasn't so brilliant... But then, suddenly. just as we - BIPBIPBIPBIPBIPBIPBIPB High-pitched and horrible, like an alarm waking you brutally from the perfect dream. Oh no! We pulled apart. I caught a glimpse of the dashboard clock. My fairy godfather had thoughtfully alerted me for 11:45. But he'd assumed I'd be in the centre of town, not way out here. 'Jodi, I've got to get back.' 'So have I!' she gasped. To be fair, she looked as worried as me. We got going at once. Back through the after-hours lanes, I put my foot down. Actually, we were still having fun. Jodi was going, 'This is wild,' as the night flashed by - but inside, I was feeling really cut-up. We weren't going to make it. I remembered how long ago, my Pokemon card vanished just before a vital trade. And my Man U shirt, likewise, at half-time against Year 6, leaving me scrabbling for a vest. It was always the way with Jim. But this was much more serious. A cool lass like this was going to be really annoyed. She wouldn't want to be dumped in the middle of nowhere. She'd be used to boys with nice motors. Come to think of it, she probably only liked me for my car in the first place. How would I ever be able to invite her out again? We were definitely not going to make it. I looked at the clock. 11:59:50. We were still a mile away from town. I hit the brakes and pulled into a bus-stop lay-by. Just in time. Whoomph! A pink flash - or was it two? - and there I was sitting by the kerb with a vegetable peeler and a Matchbox Austin Allegro beside me. And it had all been going so well. 'Jodi,' I began. 'I'm really sorry, I-' I stopped. She'd begun speaking as well. I looked across at her, and to my astonishment, she was no longer wearing the golden minidress and boots. She had on a brown anorak and jeans and no makeup and her hair was messy and windswept. And I recognised her. She was Jodi - Jodi from Technology & Design, who never went out anywhere! And what's more amazing - anorak or no anorak, she looked just as good as before... We both stopped what we were going to say. She looked round, seeming suddenly to realise that the car had gone and that we were sitting in the lay-by on the ground. Then we were staring at each other, our mouths even further open than before. 'You've got one as well!' we said, both at the same time. At which point it started to rain. But we didn't, actually, mind. | THEN THE TEARS CAME by Katie Bunting (Under 18 prize winner) I love this photo. It reminds me of the happier times in my life. It shows a bulky man with broad shoulders and a huge nose. His most distinctive feature though is his fiery red hair. It's wildly messy, falling all on his face and in his eyes. The man's colossal arms are folded across his wide chest. That's my dad. He doesn't look anything like that anymore. His hair isn't as fiery and his shoulders seem to droop. Next to the man stands a beautiful woman. Her dark auburn hair flows down to her waist. Her eyes glisten in the light and her peachy lips part to reveal a dazzling smile and sparkling white teeth. Her skin is beautiful and smooth, there's not a wrinkle in sight. That's my Mum. She's changed now though. Her hair is greying at the roots, her face is covered in wrinkles and her eyes no longer glisten. But the worst thing of all is no one ever gets to see her dazzling smile any more. It's as if it's been permanently removed. In her arms she's carrying a small boy of about three. He too has ginger hair and a great smile. But his features are all too familiar. That's my brother Jimmy. When he was born he had Down's syndrome and other complications. He needed extra help with just about everything. He had trouble communicating and could only talk in squeaks and grunts. I really didn't like Jimmy; at times I hated him. He always had my parents running around after him so no one ever had any time for me. Not really on Christmas or even my birthday. It was always, 'I'll play with you soon, I just need to sort Jimmy out,' Or 'No, we can't do that because your brother won't like it.' Most of the time though, it was, 'Not now, I'm looking after Jimmy' Or 'I need to do this for Jimmy because it's important.' Jimmy was always so important, no matter where he was or what he did it was always Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy. I know he couldn't help his condition, but at times it really upset me. I just wanted to be noticed for something I did for once. But sometimes I took my frustration out the wrong way, on Jimmy. I didn't mean to get angry with him; he just annoyed me. Often I would shout at him and tell him that he was a rubbish brother and once I even said I hated him. Hate, it's a strong word and can have a big impact. It's not a word to be used for the sake of talking, and I learnt that the hard way. I used to go around blurting it out for the whole world to hear, but I'll never forget the look on Jimmy's face when I said that I hated him. The tears came into his eyes and his lip trembled. I should have taken it back there and then, giving Jimmy a big hug and saying sorry. But I decided not to and instead fixed him with a stone cold glare. I will have to live with the guilt for the rest of my life. Now I never say the word hate, ever. There's one more person in the photograph. A girl of about five. She's standing apart from the rest of them. She doesn't have fiery red hair or a dazzling smile. Instead she has un-kept mousy brown locks. She has a round face, regular features and grey eyes. Her face shows a blank expression, no feeling or emotion. The girl in the photo is me. I am part of the family, not that you'd know it. We're not much of a family any more though. Not after what happened. Jimmy died on the nineteenth of February, three years ago. He just had a cold to start with, but then he got worse and before we knew it he was in hospital. They said just for one night but then he had to stay and he was gone for longer and longer and to tell the truth, I missed him. The mood at home was horrible, like everything was in slow motion. I hardly ever saw mum, she was always at the hospital. Even when she was home, it was like she wasn't there at all. Her mind was somewhere else, swimming in a sea of uncertainty and confusion. She was slowly drifting away. I was losing her and I knew it. It was around eight-thirty on a Friday evening when the phone rang. It was the most unwelcome sound we could have heard. We let it ring and all glanced at each other from our various seats around the living room. Dad shuffled nervously and eventually answered it. He stood with the receiver at his ear, his hand shaking. After five minutes that seemed more like five years, Dad slammed the receiver down and thumped his fist on the table. He buried his head in his hands and erupted into a fit of sobbing. Dad never cries, so I knew to expect the worst. My eyes moved over to mum. She was staring vacantly into space. She fell to her knees but her stare did not falter. The tears just rolled down her cheeks and dripped onto the floor. I didn't know how to feel. I tried crying but no tears came so I got up and walked out of the room. I went into Jimmy's room and sat down on his bed. I felt something crinkle and pulled out from beneath me a piece of paper. It was one of Jimmy's drawings, well scribbles. I could just about make out two potato-like figures with stick arms. Then underneath were some more scribbles, Jimmy's handwriting. Mum had translated next to it: 'Me and my big sister, the best sister in the world.' Then the tears came. | ||||
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