Page 36 of Anxious Hearts

Finn followed his classmates down the stairs and out into the yard.

The girls congregated in groups around the trees and the boys ran to the cricket pitch on the small school oval.

He walked through the crowds of little kids squealing and chasing each other, swinging on monkey bars and flying down slides.

He stood at the edge of the grass and watched the boys set up.

Two batters, one set of stumps, half-a-dozen in the field.

Pretty much the same lunchtime routine as his old school.

That kid who said Finn had a girl’s name, Oliver, was bowling. He marked out his run up, charged in and bowled a quick ball that beat the batsman and went through to the keeper. ‘Ooooh,’ Oliver cried. ‘You had no idea about that one!’

Finn sensed somebody beside him. He looked down at the girl from his class with the dark, curly hair. She was staring out at the pitch as well.

‘You like cricket?’ she said.

‘Yeah.’

‘I don’t. World’s most boring game.’

‘Right.’

She looked up at him. ‘Are you a good actor?’

Finn was so surprised by the randomness of the question that he was momentarily speechless.

The blonde girl, Kelly, sidled up beside her friend. ‘Toula’s the drama captain. She’s recruiting for the school play.’

Finn had been surreptitiously watching Kelly all morning. She was even prettier close up. ‘Are you in it?’ he asked impulsively, immediately regretting the question when her cheeks went bright red.

‘I’m in the backstage crew.’

‘You should audition,’ Toula said.

‘What’s the play?’

‘ Charlie and the Chocolate Factory .’

Kelly grinned. ‘You’d make a good Oompa Loompa.’

Finn smiled. She was funny, too. ‘Might need some fake tan. I don’t think I’m orange enough.’

She giggled.

Finn stared. He didn’t have a clue what to say next.

Toula watched them both with narrowed eyes.

‘Heads!’ came a call from the cricket pitch.

Toula and Kelly ducked for cover, their hands protecting their skulls. Finn tracked the ball, then reached out and caught it one-handed, saving Toula from being hit square on the head.

She stared up at his hand, the ball safely gripped between his fingers. ‘I told you I hate this game,’ she said.

Oliver ran up to the group. ‘Nice catch,’ he said.

‘Thanks.’

‘You play cricket?’

‘Yep.’

‘Bat or bowl?’

‘Both.’

‘Wanna be on my team?’

‘Sure.’

***

Finn scuffed his feet as he walked. He was in no rush to get home.

He hated their new house. Hated how small it was.

Hated how far away it was from his old friends.

Hated that his dad wasn’t there. Hated his dad for leaving them.

Hated that building company for losing all their money.

Hated the memory of his dad’s voice telling his mum that it was all gone.

Everything. That it was all his fault. That he was so sorry. That he couldn’t live with the shame.

Hated himself for not being enough to keep his dad alive.

The heavy weight on his shoulders was a constant companion now, but at least his first day at the new school had gone pretty well. Once the boys realised he could play cricket, he was in. They all wanted to be his friend after he hit a huge six.

And that girl, Kelly. She was cool. He’d like to hang out with her, too.

He just wasn’t sure how to do that. He’d never been interested in being friends with a girl before, but something had changed.

Looking at her gave him a kind of empty feeling in his stomach, like he was sick and excited at the same time. It was weird.

Finn unlocked the door and took off his shoes.

His mum was always telling him that the soles of your shoes are disgusting; it was like bringing a public toilet into your house.

He washed his hands, another home-time ritual, and changed out of his school uniform and into his home clothes of shorts and a T-shirt.

He loaded up the computer. There was more than an hour before his mum got home from work and it was the only time he could play Call of Duty, even though it made him feel bad; his mum had told him that violent video games turned you into a psychopath and she’d banned them.

As much as he didn’t like doing the wrong thing, he couldn’t help it when it came to Call of Duty. It was completely addictive.

So addictive that Finn was startled by the sound of the front door closing. He hadn’t even heard it open. He checked the time: 5:15. ‘Shit,’ he muttered.

‘Finley?’ his mum called.

Finn madly closed down the game, losing precious ground because he hadn’t saved.

He’d have to retake it tomorrow. The computer fan whirred so loudly, even on shutting down, that it sounded like a hurricane through the house.

But his mum was washing her hands, which masked the sound.

He snatched the game disc out of his PC and slipped it into the Microsoft Word box.

Then he hurried out of the study and into the kitchen.

‘Hi, Mum.’

His mum was unpacking a small bag of groceries. She was still wearing her nursing scrubs, but her stockinged feet were bare. She froze, a loaf of bread in her hand, and scrutinised his face.

‘Why do you look so guilty? Have you been looking at pornography?’

Oh, no, please, not the pornography talk .

But the more he tried to look normal, the more he could feel his face heating up. He considered confessing to playing Call of Duty just to avoid this discussion, but he wouldn’t be able to bear it if she took that away from him as well.

‘Finley, I need to be able to trust you when you come home alone. Otherwise, we’ll have to get rid of the computer.’

‘I need it for school.’

‘Well, I don’t know which subject requires you to participate in the objectification of women.

You know, Finley, everything you do has consequences.

Even just looking at those pictures supports the industry that exploits those poor girls.

So when you come home and visit those websites, you’re contributing to ruining lives.

Not to mention they could be illegal sites.

What if the FBI is tracking you, Finley?

I don’t want the police turning up on my doorstep with a warrant for your arrest.’

Finn lowered his head. The heat of guilt and shame ran through his veins, prickling his skin and churning his stomach.

He hadn’t been looking at pornography – he wasn’t even that interested in it – but he knew he was doing the wrong thing by playing a violent video game.

That he was also supporting an evil industry that made money from glorifying violence.

He knew that. He knew that his secret purchase of the game contributed to the manufacturer’s ability to make more games, which more kids would be able to play.

And maybe one of those kids would end up getting a gun in real life and doing something terrible. And that would be Finn’s fault.

He started to hyperventilate. ‘Sorry, Mum.’

‘All right. Just remember that the wrong thing is still the wrong thing even when nobody is looking.’

***

Toula handed Finn a piece of paper with five numbered paragraphs of text. ‘You need to read one of these in front of the drama teacher, Miss Poulson. She’s in charge of casting, with my recommendations, of course.’

Finn read through each paragraph. None of them seemed to mean anything.

He guessed they were just tiny sections of larger stories.

He followed the other auditioning kids and sat on the floor of the school’s drama hall.

None of the cricket boys was here. Neither was Kelly and she was the only reason he was doing this.

He figured if he got some small part in the play, they’d get to hang out more.

But if she wasn’t going to be at rehearsals, this was a waste of time.

Toula stood in front of the group of Grade Six kids. She held one arm horizontally across her stomach, like she was wearing an invisible sling. ‘Welcome to the auditions for this year’s production of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory . I’m Toula Eliopoulos, your drama captain.’ She bowed.

This girl is weird, Finley thought.

‘You’ll be asked to read one of the monologues on the sheet you were given on entry. You don’t need to memorise it but remember to project your voice and immerse yourself in the character. All right, let’s get started.’

Toula called names in alphabetical order and kids stood in front of the group and recited their lines. Toula hummed and nodded with each delivery and Miss Poulson, a young teacher who seemed really nice, gave everybody lots of encouragement, even if they seemed pretty bad to Finn.

‘Finley Walsh,’ Toula announced.

Finn stood before his new schoolmates, all eyes fixed on him.

Miss Poulson nodded and smiled. ‘Whenever you’re ready, Finley.’

Finn wasn’t ready. Wasn’t ready at all. He didn’t even know why he was doing this. It was stupid. He played sport – he didn’t act. How had he even got himself into this situation? He was about to make a complete fool of himself in front of a bunch of kids he didn’t know. He had to back out.

‘I don’t think—’

Kelly slipped quietly through the door at the back of the hall. Nobody but Finn noticed. She smiled at him. And he remembered why he was here.

‘Take your time, Finley,’ Miss Poulson said.

‘And remember, acting is not about you standing before all of us. It’s about your character.

When you’re acting, you’re not yourself anymore.

You don’t own the things you say and do.

They belong to your character. Every action, every word, every consequence.

So give yourself over to the character you’ve chosen and let us see him instead of Finley. ’

Finn felt a wave of intense relief, as though an enormous bucket of warm water had been poured over him. His body was light and free, nothing holding him down. Miss Poulson’s words echoed in his mind: When you’re acting, you’re not yourself anymore.

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and let himself go.

When he opened them again, he was the Big House Hare and he wasn’t standing before a group of schoolkids and a drama teacher, he was pacing his cell, talking to a fellow incarcerated inmate.

When he started speaking, it was with a wise-guy accent, just like he’d seen in movies.

He didn’t know where it came from. It was almost like he wasn’t speaking at all – the words flowed out of him automatically, from the page to his tongue without him even thinking along the way.

‘I’m telling you, that tortoise set me up! No way I placed those bets. Who would ever have believed I could actually lose a race to that slow-footed, shell-wearing nincompoop? He carries his house on his back. That’s not good energy economics!’

There was a distant sound of children’s delighted laughter.

Finn fixed his eyes on the prisoner who was sitting on the bare bed along the wall of their jail cell.

He paced back and forth, gesticulating with his hands and expressing dismay with his facial expressions.

‘So, I take off like I always do. Way out in front of the mobile home who’s barely over the starting line and I think, why the rush?

Why not take it a little easy? You know, smell the roses?

Well, let me tell you, those roses stink! ’

More muted laughter. The criminal opposite him shook his head in shared contempt.

Finn carried on with the monologue and delivered his last lines standing still, talking directly to his cellmate.

‘You smell the roses, you lose the race, and they get you for match fixing. What a day! Anyway, that’s my story.

What’re you in for?’ He paused to hear the answer.

A ripple of laughter filled the silence.

‘You’re the guy who ate the grandma?! Oh, I heard about you.

And I thought I had it rough!’ Finn chuckled and then abruptly changed his expression from mirth to terror.

‘Waddya mean you’re still hungry?’ He backed away in fear and rose a wagging finger.

‘Don’t even think about it. I could run around this cell all day!

’ He took off on a comical run, three quick circles around the cell with the wolf in hot pursuit in his mind only.

Then the wolf and the jail cell disappeared and Finn was back in the drama hall. The kids on the floor were cheering and clapping wildly. Miss Poulson was staring at Finn with a stunned smile. Toula’s jaw was just about on the floor.

Finn looked for Kelly. She was still at the back of the room, grinning at him. He grinned back. When you’re acting, you’re not yourself anymore.

Finn had just found his escape.