Edsel Grizzler by James Roy Page A

lit by the porch light. ‘Is that him, Barry?’ she called.
    â€˜Yes, it’s him, Tilda. He’s fine.’
    â€˜Oh, thank heavens!’ Mum closed her eyes, leaned against the doorframe and placed a hand on her chest. ‘Oh, thank heavens!’
    â€˜Seriously, what’s the big deal here?’ Edsel asked.
    Dad had his fists on his hips. ‘The big deal, young man, is that we thought we’d lost you. And believe me, that’s not a pleasant thought. You mightn’t think that wandering home in the middle of the night—’
    â€˜It’s not even half past eight!’ Edsel interrupted.
    â€˜Even so, you just ran off and … Son, is there anything you need to say?’
    â€˜Yes. Can we talk about this inside the house, instead of out here in the street?’
    â€˜Of course.’ Dad pointed up the driveway. ‘Inside, now!’
    As Edsel passed Mum, she lifted her arms as if she was going to hug him, before thinking better of it, and took a backwards step to let him into the house.
    The confrontation in the front room didn’t last very long. Basically it amounted to Edsel saying that he was sorry his parents had worried about him – even though that was only partly true – and his parents accepting his apology before adding that he was grounded until further notice.
    Edsel headed upstairs. He was still angry about how his parents had humiliated him at school, but for now, he figured he’d accept the punishment. That didn’t stop him closing his door only a little less firmly than a slam and plopping himself into his chair. He winced as the strange white plug in the pocket of his jeans dug into his backside, and he rocked to one side so he could take it out.
    It sat there on his desk, looking rather mysterious. The logo was facing him, taunting him, begging him to take it down to the Egg in the front yard, to see if it would fit into the socket in the dash.
    And yet the ‘until further notice’ part of his punishment concerned him. While ever that bit remained, his parents were still angry, and could increase the length of the punishment at any time. So tempting fate by sneaking downstairs probably wasn’t wise.
    Since bed seemed to be the only safe option he had left, he put on his pyjamas and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. It was while he was in there, with a mouthful of toothpaste, that he heard raised voices downstairs. They weren’t angry raised voices, but calling-out raised voices.
    â€˜No, I haven’t seen them,’ Mum was saying. ‘And is there any need to turn my kitchen upside down?’
    â€˜They aren’t expensive,’ Dad replied, ‘but I’d still like to find them before the weekend. Edsel, have you seen my sunglasses?’ he called. ‘You know, those ones I bought from the petrol station – have you seen them?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜Are you sure? You know the ones I mean, don’t you?’
    â€˜Of course I do, and I’m sure I haven’t seen them,’ Edsel answered, a little impatiently. Then, as he rinsed his mouth, he let himself have his recurrent little daydream about living in a house where his parents were roughly the same size as each other, didn’t get cream all over their faces, didn’t do all they could to embarrass their son, and didn’t develop a heart condition over a pair of $15 sunnies. In other words, a normal kind of family.
    He returned to his bedroom, saw the white plug-like object on his desk, and immediately had an idea that might, at any other time, have led him to feel very proud, even a little smug. But on this occasion it was more a matter of him feeling relieved. He had a way of getting outside.
    â€˜Actually, Dad, I might have seen them,’ he called as he pulled on his dressing-gown, and Dad came to the foot of the stairs.
    â€˜You’ve seen them?’
    â€˜Yeah, in your workshop, I