The Minnow by Diana Sweeney Page A

belly. We sit like this for a few minutes. The Minnow obliges with a few summersaults. ‘Jonah,’ I say, ‘do you think the police want to talk to me because they know the Minnow is half Bill’s?’
    â€˜No,’ answers Jonah. ‘Bill has done something. The police have been questioning Paul Bunter and Jacko Davis.’
    â€˜Oh,’ I say, lapsing back into silence. This is an unexpected turn of events. Maybe I’m off the hook. I’m about to ask Jonah how he knows what the police have been doing, when it dawns on me that he’s acting weird.
    â€˜What’s wrong?’ I ask. ‘You’re not being yourself.’
    Jonah shifts his body. He turns and looks at me, briefly, then refocuses on his feet. I realise I have no idea what’s going on.
    â€˜Jonah, you’re freaking me out.’
    He clears his throat. I hold my tongue. He clears his throat for the second time.
    â€˜I’ve got a crush on James,’ he says in a tiny voice. If we weren’t sitting side by side, I would have missed it.
    â€˜A love crush?’ I ask, taking his hand away from the Minnow so I can turn and face him. ‘A love crush on James Wo?’ My voice has come out high and squeaky.
    â€˜Just a crush, all right?’ He folds his arms defensively.
    â€˜But he’s a teacher,’ I say, stating the obvious. ‘He could lose his job.’
    â€˜Oh, sorry, Miss sleep-with-Bill-who’s-old-enough-to-be-your-father.’
    â€˜Stop it,’ I say, a bit too loudly.
    â€˜For god’s sake, Tom, you’ve only just had your birthday,’ meaning I was only fourteen when it happened, ‘so don’t you dare lecture me from your glasshouse.’
    And then Jonah turns to look at me, letting me have the full force of the Jonah-Whiting stare. ‘I haven’t done anything wrong,’ he continues. His eyes are glistening as though tears are close. ‘It’s just a crush.’
    â€˜But you took him to the tree house.’

After four and a half weeks at the Mater Women’s Hospital in West Wrestler, the Minnow and I are allowed to go home. An orderly collects us and takes us to the ambulance in a wheelchair. I get a chance to check on the turtle while we wait for the lift.
    I told Papa about him. Papa said he sounded rather unusual. He said that all the turtles he had ever met were fairly solid characters.
    I notice that the tank faces the television in the nurses’ station. God knows what he’s been watching.
    â€˜Hi,’ I say.
    â€˜Can you not tell when I’m sleeping?’ he answers.
    I add liar to the list.
    â€˜Papa says you’re unusual,’ I say, ignoring his rudeness, ‘and he doesn’t mean it in a good way.’
    â€˜Whatever,’ says the little turtle, in a voice I recognise as lonely. He turns and slides off the rock into the water. I wish I hadn’t said anything.
    Eventually the lift dings, the doors open, and the orderly pushes me inside.
    Once on the ground floor, after a brief pause at the front desk, we’re wheeled to the ambulance bay. We pass Dr Patek talking to someone on her mobile. She makes elaborate hand signals to say she’ll catch up with me in a minute.
    The ambulance has a comfortable stretcher but I want to look at the view. As soon as she arrives, I ask Dr Patek if it’s okay for me to sit up the front.
    She checks with the driver.
    â€˜Not possible, I’m afraid,’ she tells me. ‘But there’s a seat in the back if you’d rather not lie on the stretcher.’
    â€˜Damn,’ whispers the Minnow.
    The orderly manoeuvres me in to the ambulance.
    â€˜You take care of that baby,’ says Dr Patek. ‘I don’t want to see either of you for another twelve weeks.’ She smiles and waves as the driver reverses the ambulance out of the emergency bay.
    â€˜I like her the best,’ says the Minnow.
    â€˜Me too,’ I