Invisible Boys by Holden Sheppard

Author:Holden Sheppard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Fremantle Press
Published: 2019-12-17T16:00:00+00:00

13: Ragazzi

Zeke

Three months ago, at the end of year ten, I won a whole bunch of school awards for my good grades. At the Speech Day ceremony in the huge orange Byzantine-style St Francis Xavier Cathedral, the principal called my name out five times. Five times, I had to get up, my shirt plastered with sweat in the November heat; and five times, I went back to my varnished pew to the sight of Hammer and Razor muttering stuff that was clearly about me, but not for my ears.

But the faces I didn’t look for in the crowd were those of my parents. I knew better by this point.

After Speech Day was done, I fought my way out of the bottleneck at the stained glass doors of the cathedral, splashing holy water on my forehead to cool myself down. I found my parents standing quite still in the sunny throng outside.

‘Well done, son,’ Dad said, plucking one of the little maroon velvet sacks from my grip. ‘Straight to the pool room!’ he declared boldly. Dad’s favourite movie is The Castle.

‘It’s impressive to get five awards in the one year,’ Mum said. ‘I noticed that Sabrina Sefton got three – she must be quite bright as well.’

‘She is. Her parents push her really hard. She studies a lot, too,’ I said.

‘Study never beats raw intelligence, though, does it?’ Mum said. ‘Let’s face it – three is good, but it’s not five.’

‘Can we go?’ I said at once.

My parents always made me uncomfortable at Speech Day. Dad always looked on edge, eyeing up the white-collar dads in their nice suits while he wore a button-up shirt over dark denim. If anyone congratulated him on my success, he’d brush it off fast, like even talking to these parents sent him into a panic. Mum was the opposite. She’d try to catch the eyes of mothers whose kids had won fewer awards than me. She wanted to gloat: even though the medallions were engraved with my name, for her I was the trophy. And yet at the same time, she’d be comparing me to other students. She’d point out guys like Hammer, who would win the award for PE. Adjusting her big sunglasses, she’d give a high little laugh. ‘Phys Ed! There’s one award that’s never going to make it your way, hey, Zeke?’

But what actually bothered me the most was that once we got in the car, my awards were never mentioned again. Mum and Dad would start gossiping about some of the other parents, or bicker about the business, and I’d sit in the back seat and watch the Norfolk Island pines whiz past as the Monaro sped down the avenue.

When we got home, I’d carry my swag of maroon velvet sacks to my bedroom. On my desk was a wooden safety-glasses holder. It was our project in year seven woodwork, and I got a B for it, which I was always proud of since I sucked at doing anything manual. I

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