Ghost Byte Read online

  So Helen Wong started going with the biggest surf Nazi in history. But if that was the sort of guy she wanted, Brendan reckoned all he had to do was work out in the gym for a couple of years and have his brain removed and he might get her back. He was already a faster swimmer.

  Although Barry Hunter was being tipped as an Olympic prospect, Brendan had beaten him in last year’s club championships. Despite the fact that they both belonged to the same swimming club, they hated each other with a passion not previously seen that far north of the Sydney Football Stadium. Even though Barry had always beaten Brendan at the school’s swimming carnivals, late last year Brendan had done heaps of training and really got it together for the club championships.

  They had lined up on the blocks, side by side, as favourites for the under fifteen one hundred metres. Nobody really gave Brendan much chance except his mother, who usually screamed her lungs out in the stand.

  ‘Hey, Fluoro-man?’ Barry had said. ‘You should have brought your surfboard and come for a ride on my wake. I’m gunna leave you for dead.’

  ‘Blow-wave, what’s it like to have survived a triple lobotomy?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Forget it!’

  ‘Yeah, and you can forget winning this race, Fluoro-man.’

  The gun went and they hit the water. Being twice the size of everybody else in the race, Blow-wave powered to the front. But Brendan did just what Blow-wave told him to do: he rode his wake. Just like Duncan Armstrong had ridden to gold on Matt Biondi’s at the Seoul Olympics a few years back.

  They turned at the fifty metre mark with Blow-wave in front but with Brendan sitting just off his shoulder, hugging the lane rope to get the best drag. With twenty metres to go, Brendan moved off the rope to the centre of his lane and surged past to win in club record time. The crowd went berserk, or at least his mother did.

  Blow-wave got out of the pool coughing, spluttering and complaining of every ailment from a heavy virus to a mild shark attack. Brendan looked over to where Blow-wave’s group had encircled him. He held up his three middle fingers and said, ‘Read between the lines, Blow-wave.’ Blow-wave and some of his hangers-on came over to sort Brendan out, but his mother suggested they make themselves scarce before she beat the living crap out of them. She was pretty cool sometimes.

  Being called for lunch broke Brendan’s train of thought and brought him back to the present. ‘C’mon, Brendan! Lunch is ready, or dinner, or whatever it is you want to call it. Let’s not hang a title on it.’

  It was the school swimming carnival in a couple of weeks’ time. Brendan knew that even allowing for Blow-wave Hunter’s stupidity, which was pretty remarkable, he probably wouldn’t fall for the same trick twice. But Brendan was determined to beat him. Only a couple of kids at school knew that he had beaten Blow-wave before, but as they were all part of his gang, they kept it fairly quiet. Brendan told a few people and they didn’t believe it. But he reckoned if he could show Helen that he could kick Blow-wave’s arse again, he might have a chance of getting her back. He didn’t really think that a person of Helen’s intellect would leap into someone’s arms and say, ‘Take me; I’m yours’ on the basis of them winning a swimming race. But you could always hope.

  Brendan didn’t do much for the rest of the day. He bummed around the house, the beach, and the toilet when he overdosed on some ultra chocolate ice-cream. But later that night, just before midnight, Brendan sat bolt upright and stared at his wardrobe. He was in a cold sweat and shivering and his heart was almost pounding out of his chest.

  There was something in the wardrobe. Something evil. And it wasn’t his PE socks.

  Chapter 5

  Brendan’s high school was probably no less attractive than any of the other high schools that were built around the mid-sixties. But it did suffer from the fact that, like his house, it was only a stone’s throw from the beach. When faced with nature’s architecture at its best, most man-made structures look pretty ordinary by comparison. So when you looked at the sparkling Pacific and then at Brendan’s school, ‘drab’ was one of the first words that sprang to mind.

  Brendan sat alone in the quadrangle on the first morning of the new school year. He looked over towards where Blow-wave was with his gang. He couldn’t see Helen Wong, but she mustn’t have been too far. The whole group was laughing and carrying on like they’d just heard the funniest joke in the universe. This was bull for a start. If they had, someone would have to spend a couple of hours explaining the punch line to Blow-wave, who was so thick he thought the ozone layer was a lovemaking position.

  Brendan could remember the time when he and Blow-wave used to be friends—back in Year 7. Brendan went over to stay one Friday night and when he got there Blow-wave’s father was trying to help him with his maths homework.

  ‘Look, Barry, it’s not hard! Okay, I’ll use terms that you can understand. If you’ve got eight surfboards and somebody takes away ten, what do you get?’

  ‘Really pissed off,’ Barry had said.

  ‘Cut the language!’ said Mr Hunter, cuffing Barry on the head with his slipper.

  ‘But someone’s nicked my surfboards.’

  ‘C’mon now, think. If you’ve got eight surfboards and somebody takes away ten you’re left with?’

  ‘If I’ve got eight surfboards and somebody nicks ten, then I must have had another two in the shed or something.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Cause if they take ten and I only had eight in the first place, I must have had another couple that I’d forgotten about, in the shed or under the house. Or, maybe I was only borrowing them, or maybe I’d nicked them …’

  ‘Okay, Barry, forget the surfboards!’

  ‘Including the ones in the shed?’

  ‘Especially the ones in the shed.’

  ‘You brought them up.’

  ‘The answer to the question is minus two.’

  ‘No, it isn’t!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The answer is minus ten,’ said Barry in the same smug sort of tone that Pythagoras probably used when he told his dad about pi.

  ‘And what obscure theorem did you apply to come up with that answer?’

  ‘It’s simple: if I had eight surfboards and somebody nicked then, then I am ten surfboards worse off, or minus ten surfboards. So the answer must be minus ten.’

  Mr Hunter suggested that Barry had better be a mighty good surfer because he wasn’t going to make it as an academic.

  Brendan and Barry went surfing the next day. But as soon as Barry saw that Brendan was just as good a surfer as he was, he lost interest in their friendship, and a couple of weeks later started calling him Fluoro-man.

  Brendan reckoned that the only reason Barry went after Helen Wong in the first place was because she was his girlfriend.

  ‘Stevens, you geek,’ yelled an excited voice that jerked Brendan out of his thoughts. ‘I’ve been looking all over for you.’

  ‘I’ve been waiting here for you as usual, you dork.’ Zervoid was amazing. Brendan waited for him in the same spot at the start of each new term, but he would still tear-arse around like a chook without a head.

  ‘Relax, man,’ said Zervoid. ‘I’m still a bit jet-lagged. Mate, you look tired.’

  ‘Yeah, I didn’t get much sleep last night. I kept dreaming that there was something in my wardrobe.’

  ‘Something in your wardrobe? Clothes maybe?’

  ‘No! Something horrible.’

  ‘Your socks?’

  ‘Forget it, Zervoid!’

  ‘How was your holiday in York?’

  ‘Not too bad. A bit boring, though.’

  ‘How’s Ducky and your old man?’

  ‘Ducky’s cool. He’s finished school and he’s going to uni in Perth. Goes back to York on the weekends. But Dad’s mind’s still out to lunch.’

  ‘Tough break.’

  ‘Yeah. What about you? How was Greece?’

  ‘The same.’

  ‘Same?’ said Brendan,
confused. That was the first time Zervoid had been.

  ‘It’s the same as what the olds said it would be. I think we’re related to half the country.’

  ‘How was it, though?’

  ‘Oh, it was great. Funny thing is, the olds seem to be more Greek than the relos who are still there. They all seem pretty modern and happening, whereas my olds are still mega-strict. Not so much with me, but Mary. She’s got to do about fifty rosaries if they catch her looking sideways at a guy who isn’t Greek, and she’s twenty-five next week.’

  ‘Yeah, olds can be weird. It’s their job I suppose.’

  ‘What job?’

  ‘Being olds.’

  ‘Uhh. Guess what?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You didn’t guess.’

  ‘Umm, three?’ Brendan didn’t have a clue what Zervoid was raving about.

  ‘No. Calculus isn’t coming back.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘His parents enrolled him at some geek school.’

  ‘Too bad.’

  ‘Yeah, school uniform’s a hat and an electronics set.’

  ‘What about Brains?’ Brendan thought if anyone would be going to a geek school, it’d be Brains—his olds were loaded.

  ‘No, he’s here. I saw him in the library before. Kids were kicking him up the arse.’

  That was over half the gang gone in three years. O’Leary had gone back to Ireland, Walker to Brisbane, Harris to see the great surfboard maker in the sky, and now Callaway had deserted them for an all boys’ school and would probably come out a yuppie.

  ‘Look what the cat brought in: a geek and a Greek.’

  ‘It’s what the cat dragged in, Blow-wave, you wax-sniffing moron.’

  ‘Don’t get jealous, Fluoro-man, just because I took your girlfriend. Oh, by the way she looks great in a bikini.’

  ‘I know, dickweed, she used to come and watch me surf too.’

  ‘Yeah, but she looks even better out of it.’

  ‘That’s it, Blow-wave, you’re dead.’ Brendan leapt to his feet and grabbed him by the collar. They both toppled backwards onto the ground, with Brendan landing on Blow-wave’s chest. Brendan drew back his fist but before he had the chance to slam it into Blow-wave’s face he was dragged off.

  ‘Zervoid, what are you doing?’

  ‘Forget it, man. You won’t be able to swim too good if your hands are covered in bruises.’

  Blow-wave got to his feet. ‘You’re dead, Fluoro-man.’

  ‘No he’s not.’

  ‘I’ve got no beef with you, Zervoid.’

  ‘It’s John Zervos to you, Blow-wave. Why don’t you pick on someone your own size, like me?’

  ‘Don’t push your luck, Zervos.’

  They were like a couple of bulls on heat. Brendan thought he could see steam coming out of Zervoid’s nose. Or maybe it was …

  ‘Any time you think you’re ready,’ said Zervoid. He stuck his chin out and started dancing from one foot to the other. ‘Come on, any time. Now if you like. Three hits: I’ll hit you, you’ll hit the ground, and the ambulance’ll hit a hundred.’

  ‘Forget it!’

  ‘Yeah, Blow-wave, I thought you would. Go on! Run along and play!’

  ‘Why’d you stop me?’ asked Brendan after Blow-wave had walked away.

  ‘He’s not worth it.’

  ‘Yes he is. I could have slammed him too. I had him right there. And anyway, I don’t need you to look after me. I can take care of myself.’

  ‘You can in the pool or on a wave. When it comes to the jungle, leave apes like Blow-wave to me.’

  ‘But you heard what he said about Helen. Why didn’t you let me slam him?’

  ‘He’s bullshitting.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘They broke up.’

  ‘WHAT?’ Brendan was excited.

  ‘They’re finished.’

  ‘Who told you?’

  ‘Brains.’

  ‘How would Brains know?’

  ‘Don’t be stupid!’

  ‘Brains knows everything,’ they said together.

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘Brains said that Helen had invited Blow-wave over for Christmas lunch or he gatecrashed or something …’

  ‘Yeah, yeah. Go on!’

  ‘Apparently he’d been out drinking the night before with some of his older mates from the surf club. He was not at all healthy when he showed up at the Wongs’ the next day.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘He vomited on their turkey.’

  ‘Gross!’

  ‘I heard that Mr Wong told him to go home and never come back. Then I think they finished up having McDonald’s for Christmas lunch.’

  Brendan found himself caught in an emotional tug of war. He was seriously thrilled that Helen had dumped Blow-wave, but he was sad that Mr and Mrs Wong, whom he liked very much, had to make do with McChickens.

  ‘This is fantastic,’ he yelled out. Clearly, jubilation had beaten compassion.

  ‘All right, settle down. Do you reckon you can get her back?’

  ‘Dunno. But at least she’s not going out with that dickweed any more. Where’s Brains?’

  ‘I told you, he was in the library. What do you want him for?’

  ‘I want to ask him something.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘Ghosts.’

  About ten minutes later Brains came wandering across the quadrangle with kids kicking him up the backside as he walked along. But as soon as Brains got near Brendan and Zervoid they veered away. Nobody messed with Zervoid.

  ‘Come here, Brains!’ said Brendan. He turned Brains around, kicked him up the backside and ripped the sign off his back.

  ‘I was wondering why everyone kept kicking me.’

  ‘Brains! Only Year 7 kids fall for that one,’ said Zervoid. ‘Did someone pat you on the back when you were in the library? Someone who wouldn’t normally pat you on the back?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Barry Hunter. He patted me on the back and asked me if I had a nice Christmas. I thought it was a bit weird cause he’s never spoken to me before, ever. Except the time he threw my hat down the hill at cricket, which was a bummer cause I was still wearing it.’

  ‘I thought it was him,’ said Brendan.

  ‘Why?’ said Brains.

  ‘He’s spelt arse wrong. He’s got: “Please kick my asre”.’

  ‘The worrying thing about educational standards in this school,’ said Brains, ‘is that kids understood it.’

  ‘The message still comes across,’ said Zervoid. ‘The worrying thing about you is that you keep falling for the same old gags. Not much point being a walking computer if you’re going to be so gullible, is there?’

  ‘Childish pranks are beneath me.’

  ‘Yeah, right, Brains,’ said Brendan. ‘Just like they were when you took the bolts out of my bed on our last video night.’

  ‘Oh, I’d forgotten about that. Did I get you?’

  ‘Yeah, Sunday arvo. Flew in from Perth. Hit the doona for a few zzzzz’s in the morning, hit the floorboards at midday.’

  Brains and Zervoid cracked up.

  ‘Hilarious,’ said Brendan. ‘You realise this means all-out war? Who’s got the next video night?’

  ‘Me,’ said Brains.

  ‘Great. Oh, Brains? When you least expect it,’ said Brendan, ‘expect it.’

  ‘What about Calculus? Is he still in the club?’ asked Zervoid.

  ‘If he doesn’t mind slumming it with us commoners,’ said Brains. ‘Anyway, I’ll see you at lunch. There’s a meeting of the Young Mathematicians in the library just before nine.’

  ‘And you’re joining?’ said Zervoid.

  ‘Yeah, anything to get out of Wednesday afternoon sport.’ He turned around and ran off towards the library.

  ‘Oi, Brains!’ yelled Brendan. ‘You need psychiatric help.’

  He turned to Zervoid. ‘Why are we fri
ends with him? I mean, shouldn’t we have some sort of standards?’

  ‘You forgot to ask him about ghosts. Is this about your wardrobe?’

  ‘Doesn’t matter. I’ll catch up with him in Maths.’

  ‘I can’t believe you’re in the A Maths class.’

  ‘Me either.’

  ‘We still doing Home Economics? You’re not going to chicken out are you?’

  ‘No way. Now that we’re a one parent family, I reckon I should be able to help Mum cook and stuff.’

  ‘Wouldn’t have anything to do with getting close to Helen Wong, would it?’

  ‘Plus I’d do anything to get near Helen Wong.’ It’d be just his luck that she’d taken Woodwork.

  ‘Have you seen who your teachers are yet?’ said Zervoid.

  ‘Yeah, I’ve got a list here.’ Brendan took out his list and handed it over. ‘Each and every one of them is a certified dag. I think I did really badly.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say that. We’ve got Mr Williams for English. He’s pretty cool; out of his skull, but pretty cool. And you’ve got Miss Cunningham for History, she’s cooler than penguin snot. Mr Best for Science, he’s okay, brings his guitar in sometimes. I don’t know what you’re complaining about.’

  ‘PE.’

  ‘Oh. Tough break. You’ve got Lewis.’

  Lewis thought the sun rose out the back of Blow-wave’s underpants each morning. When of course it really rose out of Helen Wong’s.

  Brendan gazed across the quadrangle and saw that Helen had just turned up but had put her bag down well away from Blow-wave’s group. She headed off towards the canteen.

  ‘I’ll leave you here to drool in peace,’ said Zervoid. ‘I’m going to catch up with a couple of my cousins. Tell them about my trip and all that. OKAY?’

  Nothing.

  ‘Testing, testing, is there anybody in there?’

  ‘Oh. Yeah, Zervoid. I’ll catch up with you in English.’

  Chapter 6

  ‘How was school?’ asked Brendan’s mother when she got in from work.

  ‘Okay. A lot of new books and stuff. How was the Library?’