Grandad’s Shoes

‘Well lookie who’s here. It’s S-S-Sam.’

The mocking words encircled Sam like a rope, stopping him from moving, from running away. His mouth went dry. How had Darren found him? All the way from home to the park, he’d been so careful, checking for tails, watching out for the bully. He’d even taken a different route. Where had Darren sprung from?

‘What’s the matter?’ Darren’s voice had taken on the sing-song tone Sam hated. ‘Your dog ate your tongue?’

A chorus of laughter. Darren never came alone, couldn’t cope without his gang.

Sam’s heart thumped in his chest, beating against his ribs; a caged animal, desperate to be freed. He turned slowly to face his enemy. The three of them, Trev, Ric and Darren stood in a pack, staring at him, their mouths wide, guffawing, teeth showing. Sharks, waiting to attack. He’d tried running from them before, but they were taller than him, and faster, catching him without effort. They’d pushed him to the ground, sat on his arms and legs, all the time repeating that chant ‘S-S-Sam, bad as email spam. S-S-Sam, bad as email spam.’

‘G-Go away,’ Sam yelled, ‘l-l-leave me alone.’

Hot tears welled in his eyes. Why couldn’t he stop the stutter? Why did it have to be him? And why couldn’t he be brave, stand up to these thugs?

The trio swaggered towards him, thumbs in the pockets of their ripped jeans. Sam tensed. He didn’t have anything on him this time. Darren always wanted something, his lunch, his pocket money, a favourite pen. Sam had no choice but to give Darren whatever he demanded. But now? What would Darren do?

Before he could even think of protesting, Darren was looming over him, his sneering face so close that Sam could smell peanut butter on his breath.

‘Hmmm, so what you got for me today, S-S-Sam?’

Sam could feel the other two standing behind him, cutting off his one chance of escape. Sweat began to trickle down his face, or was it his tears? God, he hoped not.

‘I, er, I -’

‘Listen to him,’ Darren said, flicking his eyes towards his gang, ‘he can’t even talk now. Have to go back to baby school and learn how to talk proper, hey S-S-Sam?’

Trev and Ric began to roar. Sam could hear them slapping their thighs, and imagined them dancing around as they laughed, laughed at him. Darren narrowed his grey eyes and grinned down at Sam.

‘Ok, here’s the deal dude. Tomorrow, lunch time, by the slide. Ten dollars, or else.’

The face disappeared out of Sam’s vision, as quickly as it had come. He waited, holding his breath, not daring to move. Sounds of footsteps fading away on the grass. Did he chance turning round? One minute, two minutes, then three passed. Sam looked behind him to see the park now empty, the intruders gone.

When Sam got home, the sun was just setting, sending streaks of pink and orange across the sky. Sam always loved watching the sun set, but tonight, it held no beauty for him. He walked quickly through the house, head down, hoping to get to his room before anyone noticed him.

‘Sam?’

His grandma’s voice floated out from the lounge room, above the noise of the TV. Watching the news had become her pre-dinner ritual. The clatter of saucepans told him that his mother was in the kitchen. His dad was working late, so he didn’t have to face him. But his grandma had seen him. What should he do? He kept moving, pushing into the bathroom to wash his face, still warm and sticky with tears.

‘Sam love?’

His grandma stood in the doorway to the bathroom. Sam continued to splash water on his face from the gushing taps. A hand touched him gently on the shoulder. How did grandmas always know when something was wrong? The physical contact was enough to bring the tears back with a vengeance.

Without a word, his grandma turned off the taps, handed him a towel, then put her arms around him. He snuggled into her, pressing the towel to his now burning face, letting the tears flow. When at last they stopped, his grandma spoke.

‘It’s those boys again, isn’t it?’ Her voice sounded angry.

Sam nodded, his head still against her chest. Images of sharks swam in his mind. He began to shake.

‘Come with me,’ his grandma said, releasing him from her embrace and gently guiding him to her bedroom at the end of the hall. She pushed him down on to the end of her bed. Sam relaxed into the soft folds of the quilt with its swirls of blue and mauve. He’d been glad when she’d come to stay with them after his grandad had died. It was easy to talk with her, and he could tell her anything, especially in this room which felt so safe.

‘I’ve tried everything, grandma,’ he blurted out, ‘b-but they won’t s-s-stop.’

Sam slammed his fist into the bed, making a dent. Stop stuttering, he wanted to scream, just stop.

‘It’s ok, Hun.’ His grandma had pulled a chair over to the bed. ‘We’ll sort this out, just you and me,’ she said, taking both of his hands.

‘But how, Gran?’ Sam looked up at his grandma’s wrinkled face. ‘H-H-how? I’m useless. I’m just u-u-useless.’

Sam felt the tears starting again. He ducked his head, ashamed.

‘By doing it my way.’ Her voice sounded so sure. ‘I reckon your best bet is to run, not try and talk your way out, the way your folks think.’

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but his grandma stopped him with a finger to his lips.

‘You gotta trust me, right? See I’ve got a no-can-fail recipe.’ She winked at him. ‘You have to promise not to tell a-n-y-o-n-e. It’s our little secret.’

Sam watched in silence as his grandma hopped out of her chair and tottered over to her wardrobe. After a bit of rummaging around and muttering to herself, she came back, a pair of old shoes in her hands.

‘These are your grandad’s,’ she said, sitting down again and placing the shoes in her lap. ‘They were his runners, his best racing shoes. Won many a race in these, you know.’ She paused, her eyes fixed on his. ‘They’re special,’ she whispered, ‘magic even.’

Sam’s eyes widened. The trophies his grandad had won in his day lined the mantelpiece in their lounge room. Almost as fast as Phar Lap, his grandma always claimed. He studied the shoes. They were a grubby grey colour with a dirty yellow stripe around the edge. A sort of musty smell wafted from them. Sam wrinkled up his nose. He admired his grandad for his speed on the track, but these shoes didn’t look magical.

‘Bit of that eucalyptus spray and they’ll be as good as new,’ his grandma said. She must have noticed the smell too.

‘B-But I can’t run, Grandma.’

‘Ah ha,’ she said, her eyes gleaming, ‘you don’t have to. These shoes will do the running for you. They’re a bit big for you, but running shoes always are. We’ll just stuff some socks in the fronts. They’ll be fine, you’ll see. Those brutes won’t be able to catch you now. All they’ll see is the dust you kick up in their faces.’

Sam turned his eyes to his grandma’s cheery face. He didn’t want to disappoint her. So he took the shoes, thanked her, and went to his room.

Outside, the sky had darkened. Sam walked over to his window to shut the curtains. Then he heard something, a sound from the garden. He peered out into the gloom.

‘Hoo hoo, hoo hoo.’

Up in the lilli-pilli tree six feet from his window, barely visible amongst the leaves, sat a large bird. If he hadn’t heard its call, he might not have seen it. Its brown feathers blended with the tree’s bark, giving it perfect cover. The bird’s green eyes, huge and round, were looking straight at Sam.

‘Wow,’ he breathed, not daring to move in case he scared it, ‘you’re an owl.’

Sam had only seen pictures of owls in books, never actually up close, like now. In story books, he’d read about owls that had magical powers. They were supposed to be special, bringers of good luck. He glanced quickly at his grandad’s shoes, still in his hand. They were supposed to be magical too. This was too freaky.

A sudden rustle of wings and the owl flew off, leaving Sam to stare at the empty branch and wonder.

That night, Sam dreamed about the owl. He was in the playground, standing by the slide, waiting for Darren and his gang. When he saw them coming, he did something weird. He jumped into the air and on landing, turned and took off. His grandad’s shoes were on his feet, flopping a little as he ran. He could hear footsteps closing in from behind. The gang nearly had him, he was going to be caught. And then, a whooshing sound filled his ears and he felt himself being lifted gently off the ground. He was flying. Looking up, the brilliant green of the owl’s eyes stared back at him. It had lifted him off the ground and was taking him away from the bullies, away to safety.

When Sam went to school the next day, he couldn’t stop thinking about the dream and the owl. He wore his grandad’s shoes which felt sort of funny with the socks stuffed into the toes. His mother had raised an eyebrow when she’d seen the shoes, but Sam had let his grandma do the explaining. After all, it was their secret.

The bell for lunch came way too soon for Sam. He hadn’t brought the money because he didn’t have any. His last cent had gone on a new skateboard he’d bought a few days ago. No way could he have asked his parents for the money, because pocket money wasn’t due for another week. If his grandma hadn’t been so sold on the shoes saving him, he might have hit her for a loan. But he wouldn’t start stealing, not even for Darren.

Sam’s stomach tightened as he left the safety of the classroom. He dumped his bag at the lockers but didn’t bother to take out his lunch box. Just the thought of food made him feel sick. A quick glance towards the slide showed him there was no-one there yet. Maybe Darren had forgotten?

Who was he kidding? Sam sighed and hung his head. Darren would turn up; he was probably watching Sam right this minute. And then… Sam didn’t want to think about what he might do when he found out Sam hadn’t any money on him. And no owl was going to dive in and save him. It had only been a dream. He was done for.

Quick, scram, skedaddle, a voice inside his head urged. Don’t wait, they’ll find you.

Sam turned his back on the playground, broke into a fast walk and headed for the school gate. Home was the only place he could hide. He’d work out what to do when he got there.

Hurried footfalls behind him alerted him to his pursuers. Sam looked around, hoping against hope that it wasn’t them. But his heart skipped a few beats at what he saw. Darren and his goons weren’t far behind. Sam took off, heading for the open gate. Where were the teachers on duty? His eyes darted from side to side, searching, but he couldn’t see any, not one.

Outside the gate, Sam wheeled hard left and picked up the pace. The gang was closer now, it wouldn’t be long. But he put his head down and pushed on, pumping his arms, sucking air into his aching chest. A burning sensation started in his legs, but he ignored it. His shoes flopped at the toes as he ran, just like in the dream. Don’t fall over, don’t fall over, don’t let them win that way.

Heavy breathing close behind him brought a silent scream to his throat. This was it.

Just then, Sam saw a small tree branch on the path ahead. Hey, if they didn’t see it, they might trip. A slim skerrick of hope, but maybe…

Into the air he soared, clearing it easily. But something weird happened. Sam didn’t come down. Instead, he kept rising up and up, floating in a big arc, leaving his pursuers way below him, beaten, unable to follow in his path.

Sam stuck his arms out to the sides instinctively. Should he flap them? But he didn’t feel out of control, so he relaxed and gazed at the scene moving beneath him. Far out, this must be what it was like to see Earth from a spaceship. Except he could see everything – swimming pools in backyards, the local tennis courts, cars moving along snaking roads – it was wicked. He was free! He was free! But where was he going?

Sam felt himself beginning to descend. A quick check on his position showed that he wasn’t far from the park near his home, the one Darren and his gang had surprised him at yesterday. As he dropped lower, sounds of birds, lawn mowers and cars reached his ears. And then he was down, safely back on earth in the park next to a tall lemon-scented gum tree.

Before he could even think, a loud rustling above him made him squint up into the gum tree. Sunlight flickered between the leaves, making it hard to see. But there, a flash of brown, the shape of a large bird. And was that the soft hoo-ing sound of an owl?

Sam rubbed his eyes. Had he imagined it? Maybe he was still dreaming. He pinched his arm hard. Ouch! He grimaced at the pain. No, he was here all right. Here in the park. And somehow, he’d flown here.

A smile spread across his face. He knew exactly what to do next.

When Sam arrived back at school, Darren’s two offsiders were hanging about the gate, a group of kids clustered around them.

‘There he is!’ someone shouted.

In seconds, Sam was surrounded. Questions fired at him from all directions.

‘Did you really fly?’

‘They reckon you grew wings!’

‘What happened, Sam, tell us, do?’

Through a gap in the crowd, Sam noticed a lone figure some distance away, its head down, one foot scuffing at the ground. It was Darren.

‘You wan something, Sam, somethin hot like? Name it, it’s yours. some chips?’

If Trev grovelled any more,he’d be on his knees. Ric was staring at him, open mouthed. Looked like Darren had lost his clowns.

‘No thanks. I’ve got my lunch.’

Hey, he didn’t stutter once.

For the rest of the school day, Sam couldn’t stop smiling. He even whistled as he moved between classes. When he got home, he was just about to shout out a greeting to whoever was there, when he heard his Grandma’s voice, calling out from the lounge room.

‘I did it just to help him, boost his confidence a bit. Can’t believe ten year-olds can be such beasts.’

‘So by telling him the shoes were magic you thought he’d be able to run faster?’ His mother’s voice came from the kitchen. ‘Mum, what were you thinking? If anything’s happened to him!’

Sam smiled. Now he had a real secret.

Published by Ginninderra Press