Tall Story (6 page)

‘Where are we going?’

‘You’ll see.’

The sun was turning into a red fist in the gathering dusk. I realized that we were approaching the new sports centre crouched at the end of the road, its dome bulging above the trees like an overturned coconut shell.

The sports centre, the Arena, had been in construction for ever. The first contractor had gone bust. The second contractor was jailed for some kind of bribery scam to do with building materials. The third contractor resigned, saying the whole thing needed to be rebuilt. It was on its fourth contractor
now. And nothing ever seemed to be going on.

The flimsy temporary fencing was erected many years ago when construction began. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if, under the layers of graffiti, the boards had rotted away to nothing. Above the original fence, the builders had added a few more courses of marine ply. It was now so high, even I couldn’t see over it.
Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted
, the sign on top declared.

‘What are we doing here, Jabs?’

Jabby put his fingers to his lips. ‘Shh,’ he whispered. And then he winked. He kicked a panel of graffiti and it swung open. A secret door.

Jabby tossed the basketball through the narrow gap and slipped in after it.

I hung back. ‘It says trespassers will be—’

‘There’s never anybody here. Come on!’

I had to bend at the waist to get through the door. I followed Jabby into the Arena’s back yard.

It was a mess. A mountain of gravel listed precariously in one corner and untidy stacks of concrete blocks were dotted haphazardly around the yard.

Bamboo scaffolding covered everything. What I could see of the dome had been whitewashed – but
the dark grey of concrete showed through the thin paint like a five o’clock shadow.

‘There must be a security guard somewhere,’ I muttered.

‘There never is. I’ve been here loads of times. This way.’ Jabby had not stopped. There was a door to one side. A fat padlock hung from the latch.

‘We shouldn’t be here.’

‘Come on!’ Jabs pulled at the padlock and it fell to the ground with a thick clunk. ‘Follow me!’

I hunched low to enter the doorway into a dark, airless tunnel.

Jabby stood at the end of the tunnel, one shoe drumming impatiently on the floor. When I was safely through, he turned and marched into the darkness. He bounced the ball once or twice, sending echoes through the tunnel like gunshots.

‘Jabby? I can’t see anything.’ I lumbered slowly after him, my fingers tracing a path on the rough concrete walls.

‘Wait a minute.’ Jabby’s voice was distant and echoing. It sounded like he was somewhere above me, to the left. ‘I’ll be right back!’

I waited, staring into the murk.

The air was choked with construction dust but
there were other smells too – new wood, paint, cardboard and styrofoam.

Then, high above my head, the lights bloomed on like a hundred little suns.

I realized I was standing next to a basketball goal. It was made of transparent fibreglass, like the ones you see on TV. Nothing like the ones at the park which had warped badly after only one monsoon.

The net hanging from the hoop was red, white and blue, and so new the white bits glowed like Old Tibo’s false teeth.

Beneath my feet, the floor was made of a yellow wood, shiny and smooth.

Tiers of red seats wound round and round and up and up to the high domed roof.

All this time I had assumed that the sports centre was nowhere near finished. I was wrong.

‘Wow.’ I turned. Jabby was slowly descending from wherever it was he’d switched on the lights, cradling his basketball like a baby, a big grin on his face. ‘I had no idea.’

He flexed his shoulder muscles and pushed the ball into the sky. It arced high but I reached up at just the right moment and tipped it gently into the basket. It bounced on the yellow floor with a satisfying
thunk
.

Jabby caught it after the first bounce.

‘Ace!’

It was the one move I could do on the basketball court. Jabby and I spent a lot of time practising variations of it. Under the basket. To the right. To the left. It wasn’t
proper
basketball, but at least it was something we could do together, since with my big feet and my brittle knees, I couldn’t run to save myself.

Jabby thunked the ball once or twice and released it from the free-throw line.
Swish
. It dropped neatly through the net. ‘Not only is it finished, the Arena is all set to open. In two weeks!’

‘Two weeks? But I haven’t seen any posters. Shouldn’t they be advertising?’

‘They will – they’re just sorting out some local teams for the exhibition game.’ He stood on the three-point line and attempted another shot. He missed. The ball ricocheted off the hoop with a powerful
crack
.

Two weeks! I would be in London by then. I bit my lip.

Jabby grabbed the ball and turned to the backpack he had flung down on the end line.

‘I brought you here for a reason.’ His eyes sparkled as he unzipped his backpack.

‘What?’

Jabbar cleared his throat, as if he was going to make an announcement over the public address system. ‘My friend, I have gathered you here today to celebrate a momentous occasion.’ He extracted a Mountain Men shirt just like his, holding it out to me delicately, like some kind of sacred offering.

‘What?’ I stared at it.

‘A gift, Nardo. It’s a gift.’ Jabbar pushed the shirt into my hands. ‘A Mountain Men shirt. An official invitation to join the most amazing basketball team on this side of the South China Sea, with the most amazing team captain on this earth. Me.’

I couldn’t speak. My Adam’s apple suddenly felt like the size of a basketball. ‘I … thanks, Jabby.’

‘You’re welcome.’ He looked around the stadium, pleased with himself. ‘Isn’t this great?’

‘Jabs …’ I stared at the shirt. Jabby must have had it made specially. Maybe by Timbuktu, who had to make all my clothes because nothing in the shops fitted me.

‘Come on, Nards, try it on!’

I frowned. ‘Jabby, I can’t join the Mountain Men. It would be a disaster. Look at me. I’m so clumsy. I can’t even run …’

‘And that’s not all.’ Jabby was not listening. ‘You know the Arena’s supposed to recruit local teams for the big opening?’

I nodded.

‘We’re it!’

‘What do you mean?’

‘The Mountain Men. They picked us!’

‘Wow, congratulations!’ I should have been jumping up and down at our good fortune but I was still trying to process his invitation. I loved basketball. But I would be a complete embarrassment to the Mountain Men. I would be a joke. How could Jabby even consider …?

‘And guess what the other team is called.’

‘What?’

‘The Giant Killers.’

‘
The Giant Killers?
’

I stiffened.

‘They requested to play us specially. Nardo, people will be coming from miles around to watch us play.’ Jabby grinned. ‘And the Arena said they would give us a share of ticket receipts. We’re going to be rich!’

I understood now. ‘You mean, they will be coming for miles to see the Giant Killers try to slay a real
giant
.’

‘No, that’s not it.’ Jabby’s brown skin paled. ‘Wait, you don’t understand.’

I whirled around and headed blindly for the tunnel.

‘Nardo!’

I stopped and threw the shirt back at him. It lay like a puddle at his feet.

‘You just needed me for ticket sales. You don’t need a player, you need a
sideshow
. You only want me as the team
freak
.’

And Jabby said nothing.

So I knew it was true.

I
hope Mum realizes how awesome I’ve been about the whole brother business. I couldn’t imagine any of the kids at my school being so relaxed about suddenly acquiring a sibling. Go ahead, World, bring on the long-lost relatives.

For the first time since the day Mum told me we were moving house, I was feeling buoyant. Saint Sim’s had a basketball team and the basketball team was recruiting. I had my own room and lived in a proper-sized house instead of a rabbit hutch. My brother was finally coming home. Everything was good.

I practically skipped up the steps to our front door.

Mum should be relieved to hear she didn’t need to feel guilty about the basketball any more. I glanced at the time on my mobile. It was four o’clock. Mum would be home. She shouldn’t have to leave for work for a couple of hours yet. She wouldn’t be leaving until six and Dad should be back soon from the day shift. Which was a reversal. Two weeks before, Mum
was doing the day shift and Dad the night shift. They barely overlapped some weeks. It amazed me that they could still remember each other’s names.

‘I’m home, Mum!’ I yelled as I pushed through into the hall. Mum had hung a butterfly mobile that Auntie Sofia had sent years ago near the stairs. Nice. I hummed as I made my way up to my room.

‘Mum!’ Maybe she’d decided to wash the ceilings as well, or polish the grass in the garden – she was in that kind of mood.

I opened the door to my room.

‘Oh, Andi, I didn’t hear you.’

Mum was on the stepladder, hanging curtains.

It was a heartbeat before I realized what had jarred as I walked into the room.

On the floor next to my bed, two mattresses had been laid side by side.

The wardrobe door sagged open, and all the clothes I had carefully put away were now piled high on my bed.

Oh Holy Mother of God.

Mum looked at me and I could see guilt etched on her face.

‘It’s not what you think.’

I shook my head. ‘I don’t know what to think.’

‘You know, Bernardo is quite big, so I’ve put two single mattresses together to make up his bed. It’s temporary.’

‘Temporary?’ And then suddenly it dawned on me.

After the ceiling fell down, Bernardo’s room was a ruin. The ceiling had to be rebuilt, the walls repainted, the carpet relaid.

You could see right up into the attic rafters through the gaping hole in the ceiling. There was a smell like wet towels that had not dried properly and I thought I heard squeaking up in the hole. Gross.

‘It was damp to begin with,’ Dad had said after the crash. ‘We knew that from the survey.’

And now there was a bed on my floor.

‘Look, Bernardo will share your room until his ceiling is mended.’

‘When?’

‘When what?’

‘When is the ceiling going to be mended?’

Mum smiled a bright, fake smile. ‘Soon. I’m working on it. We have to sort out the insurance. And it takes time to find a good builder.’

‘He can’t share my room,’ I said. ‘He’s a boy.’

‘He’s your brother.’

‘But I don’t know him.’

‘Oh, try to be hospitable,’ Mum said. ‘Filipinos are the most hospitable people in the world.’

‘But I’m English.’

‘You’re half Filipino.’

‘I’ve only been to the Philippines once in my life.’

‘And you loved it!’

‘I can’t speak Tagalog.’

‘His English is very good!’

‘Why can’t he sleep in the living room? Or how about
your
room?’

Mum frowned at me. ‘Well, I was going to put him in the living room at first but then I thought, Bernardo is sixteen, he needs privacy.’

‘What about
my
privacy?’

‘You’re both teenagers!’ Mum said. ‘You have so much in common!’

Brilliant.

T
here was a humming and the bed shivered as if it had suddenly been nudged awake.

I sat up.

Earthquake?

The bed trembled again.

But no.

It was the cellphone on vibration alert under my pillow.

It was just a text message.

I pulled the phone out. The little screen flashed blue in the darkness.

The number had a +44 country code for the UK. It was Mama.

gud night nardo. cant w8 to c u.

I texted back:
night ma. c u soon.

I lay back again, awake now. Shadows huddled on the ceiling. Only a few more days and I would be on a plane to London. But in the pit of my stomach, angry teeth nibbled.

You don’t need a player, you need a sideshow. You only want me as the team freak.

I clenched my fists. Jabby might as well have punched me in the face. How could he use his best friend like some sort of
thing
to barter at the market?
How could he?

He didn’t know, did he, that I was about to leave? I imagined it. Jabby turning up at the front door like he always did, touching Auntie’s hand to his forehead before calling for me over her shoulder.

Nardo! Nardo!

And Auntie smiling sadly at him.

Nardo isn’t here! He went to London.

And him gazing down at Auntie, jaw dropping in shock.

London?

I’m sorry. We couldn’t tell anyone. He’s not coming back.

And Jabby would be sorry. Sorry. Sorry.

My face was suddenly wet and my heart seized with guilt.

Jabby would be sorry but so would San Andres.

Everybody
would be sorry to see me go.

And frightened.

Because what if the earthquakes returned?

Remorse suddenly had me by the throat. Was I about to bring calamity to my village? How could I even think of leaving? What if something happened?

I rubbed my eyes. No. No. No. Nothing was going to happen. The whole Bernardo Carpio thing, it was just a legend, wasn’t it? Nobody really believed it, surely. I laughed. But all I made was a hollow, rusty sound.

Mad Nena made things worse of course, with her crazy, apocalyptic declarations.

But it was Old Tibo who had made everybody believe. Poor Tibo with all his stories of gods and giants.

Whenever I went to Tibo for a haircut, the old man greeted me like a VIP. When I tried to touch his hand to my forehead to show my respect, he waved me off like he didn’t deserve it. And then he ceremoniously took mine and touched the back of
my
hand to his forehead. It was so wrong, an old man giving respect to a boy. His dog, Flash Gordon, fluttered around my knees like a little bird, he was so overjoyed to see me.