pulled himself up onto the bed. And then just sat staring at the chair, puffing.
He pushed the hoist and we watched it swing back and forth like a pendulum. Dylan started slowly. “My therapist wasn’t sure about my coming back here. He’s cool. I’ve had him since the hospital. He said, ‘I’m not going to feed you shit and call it chocolate cake. … Nothing’s ever going to be the same again.’ I told him the doctors hadn’t ruled out that I might walk again and he goes, ‘Meanwhile there’s the chair, you have to learn to work it, baby. Because the chair can be your best friend or your worst enemy.’ ”
Dylan smiled. It was the first time I’d noticed his teeth. They were small and white and neat, like baby teeth. “He seriously called me baby, like some kind of Hollywood producer, while everyone else was just tiptoeing around me asking what I wanted from the vending machine.” He looked at me, his face full of lost-ness. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
“Me either,” I said.
Dylan looked away. “It’s shit.”
“I know.”
25
Period of Adjustment
I decided to try and phone Chloe. I wanted something normal . I wanted her to remind me that as soon as I was out of here, none of this would mean anything. Through the rec room windows I could see the teeming mass of campers. They had energy to burn and nowhere to burn it. They looked like a rodeo. Roslyn was calling a vote. Who wanted indoor Nerfball? Who wanted Statues? Who wanted Trust Fall? Hands shot up at the last suggestion. The rules of Trust Fall had been imparted to me via Sarita during one of her early information floods: campers gather in two lines facing each other. They then lift a member of the group and pass him or her above their heads all the way down the line. Campers are supposed to come out of Trust Fall with a renewed sense of trust for their compatriots. I couldn’t see myself coming out of it with anything but a concussion.
I watched for a while and then I walked around the building to Counselor Neville’s office. His door was half-open. The smell of fresh-brewed coffee wafted out. I could hear mumbles and movement. Then silence. He called out, “Is someone there?”
I made my appearance.
Counselor Neville looked relaxed. He wasn’t sitting behind his desk; he was resting his butt on the edge. He was tie-less and his shirt was unbuttoned to reveal a few ginger hairs fighting for his throat.
“Riley Rose,” he announced.
There was a man standing with his back to us, studying the camp photos. He was wearing the traditional khaki ranger’s garb, rain-spattered. He turned around and smiled broadly. His teeth were blindingly white against his dark skin. He said, “G’day.”
“Hi.”
“This is Trevor Green,” Neville said. “Trevor works with Parks and Wildlife. His great-grandfather was a Wotjobaluk elder. He knows the desert like the back of his hand. We’ve brought Trevor in to enlighten you all about natural history. Did you bring your slides, Trev?”
Trevor nodded. “Heaps.” He jerked his head. “In the you-beaut.”
Even though I was in the room, it didn’t feel like this conversation was happening for my benefit. Trevor was smiling at Neville in a steady, unnerving manner—and it seemed like Neville was tasting his words before he spoke. The good counselor kept looking like he was about to smile, but then he’d frown at the carpet. I studied the photos again. Neville moved to the business side of his desk and shuffled some papers. Trevor put his hat back on. “Righto. I’ll get those slides.”
“What can I do for you, Riley?” Neville asked.
“Can I make a phone call? It’s important.”
“What’s the emergency?”
“It’s not an emergency, it’s just—” I was tired. My mind was mush. All I could come up with was: “It’s my best friend’s birthday.”
“If I let you make a phone call, then everyone else will want to make a phone call.” He shook his head. “Sorry, Riley, I
He pushed the hoist and we watched it swing back and forth like a pendulum. Dylan started slowly. “My therapist wasn’t sure about my coming back here. He’s cool. I’ve had him since the hospital. He said, ‘I’m not going to feed you shit and call it chocolate cake. … Nothing’s ever going to be the same again.’ I told him the doctors hadn’t ruled out that I might walk again and he goes, ‘Meanwhile there’s the chair, you have to learn to work it, baby. Because the chair can be your best friend or your worst enemy.’ ”
Dylan smiled. It was the first time I’d noticed his teeth. They were small and white and neat, like baby teeth. “He seriously called me baby, like some kind of Hollywood producer, while everyone else was just tiptoeing around me asking what I wanted from the vending machine.” He looked at me, his face full of lost-ness. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
“Me either,” I said.
Dylan looked away. “It’s shit.”
“I know.”
25
Period of Adjustment
I decided to try and phone Chloe. I wanted something normal . I wanted her to remind me that as soon as I was out of here, none of this would mean anything. Through the rec room windows I could see the teeming mass of campers. They had energy to burn and nowhere to burn it. They looked like a rodeo. Roslyn was calling a vote. Who wanted indoor Nerfball? Who wanted Statues? Who wanted Trust Fall? Hands shot up at the last suggestion. The rules of Trust Fall had been imparted to me via Sarita during one of her early information floods: campers gather in two lines facing each other. They then lift a member of the group and pass him or her above their heads all the way down the line. Campers are supposed to come out of Trust Fall with a renewed sense of trust for their compatriots. I couldn’t see myself coming out of it with anything but a concussion.
I watched for a while and then I walked around the building to Counselor Neville’s office. His door was half-open. The smell of fresh-brewed coffee wafted out. I could hear mumbles and movement. Then silence. He called out, “Is someone there?”
I made my appearance.
Counselor Neville looked relaxed. He wasn’t sitting behind his desk; he was resting his butt on the edge. He was tie-less and his shirt was unbuttoned to reveal a few ginger hairs fighting for his throat.
“Riley Rose,” he announced.
There was a man standing with his back to us, studying the camp photos. He was wearing the traditional khaki ranger’s garb, rain-spattered. He turned around and smiled broadly. His teeth were blindingly white against his dark skin. He said, “G’day.”
“Hi.”
“This is Trevor Green,” Neville said. “Trevor works with Parks and Wildlife. His great-grandfather was a Wotjobaluk elder. He knows the desert like the back of his hand. We’ve brought Trevor in to enlighten you all about natural history. Did you bring your slides, Trev?”
Trevor nodded. “Heaps.” He jerked his head. “In the you-beaut.”
Even though I was in the room, it didn’t feel like this conversation was happening for my benefit. Trevor was smiling at Neville in a steady, unnerving manner—and it seemed like Neville was tasting his words before he spoke. The good counselor kept looking like he was about to smile, but then he’d frown at the carpet. I studied the photos again. Neville moved to the business side of his desk and shuffled some papers. Trevor put his hat back on. “Righto. I’ll get those slides.”
“What can I do for you, Riley?” Neville asked.
“Can I make a phone call? It’s important.”
“What’s the emergency?”
“It’s not an emergency, it’s just—” I was tired. My mind was mush. All I could come up with was: “It’s my best friend’s birthday.”
“If I let you make a phone call, then everyone else will want to make a phone call.” He shook his head. “Sorry, Riley, I
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