‘Not really, man.’
That was an even worse sign. If Kelly was coming to the coast she would have said something to Sal by now and if Sally knew, Razz would know.
‘You should totally ring her tomorrow, dude – that’s when Lourdes finishes up. You got all Friday before we head to the beach. You should see if she wants to do something, man. Seriously.’
‘Yeah, I think I will.’
Razz scanned the playground.
‘It’s so weird to think we’re not coming back here. Uni next year. Never thought I’d be saying that. Hey, wouldn’t it be awesome if we all ended up at the same place – you, me, Sal, Kelly and all the guys. How rigid would that be, dude?’
‘It’d be great, but we’d have to be pretty lucky. It all depends on who gets offered what courses and what we all qualify for.’
The smile on Razz’s face fell a little and he picked at a loose splinter of wood on the table for a moment.
‘Yeah, I suppose. But whatever happens … wherever we end up … you and me, man … we’ll always be tight. We’ll always be hoops of steel, right?’
I looked at the face that had been there with me through all the highs and lows of the last four mad but unmissable years.
‘I don’t know about that, Razz,’ I said.
That face was now gawking at me like I was Ignatius Prindabel explaining advanced Chaos Theory. ‘What? What are you talking about, dude? What don’t you know?’
I gave him a classic Bill Kingsley shrug.
‘About us being hoops of steel.’
Razz stare crazy-eyed at me until I couldn’t take it any longer. Then, Scobie-like, I hit him with just the right words.
‘More like hoops of carbon nanotubes, I would’ve thought.’
A grin the size of a crescent moon grew on Razz’s face. Then he wrapped an arm around my neck and wrestled me into a headlock.
‘You think you’re a bit of a comedian, don’t you, Ishmael? Thought you had me going there for a while, eh? Well, I wasn’t fooled for a minute, you dirt bag. Let this be a warn–’
Suddenly Razz stopped and released his grip. He looked around behind him and under the table.
‘Hey, where’s my blazer gone? Geez, Mum’ll kill me if I lost that thing. She wants to sell it. Aw, man! It’s got my graduation medal on it too. Must have left it in the gym. Wait here, dude. I’ll be right back.’
Razz bounded from his seat and raced off a few metres before spinning round and continuing to skip backwards. He was pointing two fingers at me like a gunslinger.
‘Love ya, man!’ he called out. ‘You know, in a totally non-Hoop Boy sort of a way.’
‘Love you too, Razz,’ I laughed. ‘Same way.’
‘I’m totally cool with that!’ he said, then charged off towards the gym, throwing in a few of Melvin Yip’s ninja moves for good measure.
Then there was just me.
It felt so strange sitting at our regular table, without the normal chaos in the yard and without the other guys. After the pressure of exams and all the rush and excitement of the graduation, everything was now so quiet and still. Bit like I was sitting in the eye of a cyclone, and I guess in a way I was. It was a brief moment of calm between the end of school life and the beginning of whatever the future might hold. The future? For a moment I tried to picture what that might be like.
Well, if it was a perfect, happy-ending, movie kind of future, it would be like this: Miss Tarango and Mr Guthrie would stay together and eventually get married and raise the luckiest kids in the world; Mr Barker would become part of Razz and Mrs Zorzotto’s little family and be the partner and father they both deserved; the Dugongs would release a brand new album and it would be a hit and win awards and my dad would keep performing and writing songs and never have to sell insurance again; the current Deputy Principal of St Daniel’s would follow his heart and quit teaching for good to become manager of a legendary rock group; and Scobie, Bill, Ignatius, Razz and I would all end up at the same uni and stay friends for ever.
But sometimes life is like those kinds of movies. And sometimes it’s not.
And my personal future? Well, if it was perfect, in just two days’ time I would be at Sunshine Cove with Kelly Faulkner and we would be laughing and swimming together with a whole magic week stretching ahead of us. And I would go to university and become a writer, and I’d write all about my crazy, embarrassing, wonderful school days at St Daniel’s and about the best friends anyone could ever have. And I would grapple those friends to my soul with words, because they are stronger and more powerful than steel or even carbon nanotubes.
And that story, if I ever wrote it, would end right here – with me sitting at the table of the Fab Five, grinning like an idiot, and waiting for Cyclone Razz to come rushing back and sweep us both into the future. And with these few words.
There’s no easy way to put this, so I’ll just say it straight out. It’s time I faced up to the truth. My name is Ishmael Leseur. I am seventeen years old. I have Ishmael Leseur’s Syndrome.
There is no cure.
And do you know what?
I am totally cool with that.
37.
JUST IN CASE YOU’RE INTERESTED
Oh, and just in case you’re interested, this is how my phone call with Kelly Faulkner went the following night.
Kelly: Hello.
Me: Kelly? Hi, it’s me, Ishmael.
Kelly: Hey, Ishmael.
Me: How’d the exams go?
Kelly: Good. I was really happy with them. Hopefully, it’ll get me into Journalism. How’d you go?
Me: Not too bad I think.
Kelly: Great.
Me: Ummm, look, I was wondering … Now that exams are over and everything … if maybe you wanted to do something tomorrow, like maybe go to pictures?
Kelly: Sorry, can’t. I’m busy tomorrow. I’ve got something on.
Me: Oh, right, no worries … No, that’s fine. I just thought … but you know, if you’re busy …
Kelly: Yeah, sorry I am. I’m going shopping.
Me: Shopping? Right. Great. That’s great …
Kelly: With Sally.
Me: Oh … cool … that’ll be fun … You should totally do that … You know, what I was saying before about doing something … I only meant if you didn’t have anything … you know … important planned …
Kelly: Well, what could be more important than us buying new swimming suits?
Me: Silence
Kelly: For the beach.
Me: Silence
Kelly: You know, so we can look our best in case we meet up with a couple of hot guys when we’re down at Sunshine Cove.
Me: You’re coming?
Kelly: Uh-huh.
Me: For the whole week?
Kelly: Afraid so.
Me: Well, that’s … that’s great. That’s really good. That’s … brilliant!
Kelly: It was supposed to be a secret but you forced it out of me. Can’t believe you didn’t know already. Don’t tell me Razz actually kept his mouth shut for once. I think that might qualify as a miracle.
Me: I agree, but it’s just so great you’re coming.
Kelly: Well, I thought I should, otherwise who’d keep an eye on the weather if I’m not there? I mean, someone has to make sure that Sunshine Cove lives up to its name, right?
Me: That’s right!
Kelly: Only I’d better warn you, Ishmael, I’m a bit out of practice with the whole weather goddess thing. A few clouds might slip through every now and then … possibly even some occasional showers.
Me: I don’t mind. Hey, maybe I can help you?
Kelly: What, you think together we could make the sun shine for the whole week?
Me: Sure. Who knows, we might even start a heat wave.
Kelly: Reeeeeeeally? Well, we’ll just have to wait and see about that one, won’t we …
And the way Kelly Faulkner said it, I just knew she was smiling and those beautiful ice-blue eyes were sparkling l
ike the sea.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My unending thanks and gratitude go to the following:
My publisher at Omnibus Books, Dyan Blacklock, for blessing me with the opportunity to tell Ishmael’s story, and to my editor, Celia Jellett, for making that telling better than it otherwise would have been without her. Love you guys.
Everyone at Scholastic Australia, with a special thanks to Claire Pretyman and the ladies in the Rights and Permissions Department for sending Ishmael overseas and helping make it possible for me to be a full-time writer.
Steve Wells, for his great work in designing and creating the sparkly new Ishmael covers.
All my family, especially my wife Adriana, for being ‘the very best of everything’ in my life and for drawing on her maths and biology teacher background so that I could put suitably nerdy words into Ignatius Prindabel’s mouth; my son Joe, for his thoughtful and helpful manuscript reading, and for his encouragement and support; and my daughter Meg, whose own wonderful writing inspires me to try harder.
My ever-supportive friends and colleagues, with a particular mention this time round to Natalie, for her assistance with all things hooping; to Ruth, for her enthusiasm for the series and for letting me borrow her surname for one of St Daniel’s houses; and to Margaret, for keeping me entertained and informed on Facebook when I should be writing and for helping out with band names.
Finally, and most sincerely, thank you to every reader who has followed Ishmael from first word to last. I hope you have enjoyed the journey and had some laughs and maybe even shed a happy tear or two along the way. I know I have. It has been a joy and honour (and totally rigid!) to have had your company.
– MGB
Also by Michael Gerard Bauer
The Running Man
For younger readers:
Just a Dog
You Turkeys! Illustrated by Nahum Ziersch
Dinosaur Knights
The Ishmael books:
Don’t Call Me Ishmael!
Ishmael and the Return of the Dugongs
Michael blogs at http://michaelgerardbauer.wordpress.com.
You can also visit Michael’s page,
Michael Gerard Bauer Author, on Facebook.
Teachers’ notes for Michael Gerard Bauer’s books
are available from www.scholastic.com.au
Copyright
Published by Scholastic Australia Pty Ltd
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ABN 11 000 614 577
www.scholastic.com.au
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SCHOLASTIC and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
Text copyright © Michael Gerard Bauer, 2011.
Cover and text illustrations copyright © Steve Wells, 2011.
Print edition first published in 2011 by Omnibus, an imprint of Scholastic Australia.
This electronic edition published by Scholastic Australia Pty Limited in 2012.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher, unless specifically permitted under the Australian Copyright Act 1968 as amended.
EPUB/MOBI eISBN 978 1 921 98871 4
Michael Gerard Bauer, Ishmael and the Hoops of Steel
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