Chapter Two – Meeting Art

He ignored them and focused on catching up with Dylan. Rooster was not happy in defeat. He had been very confident he would get Matt to react in class and had not enjoyed failing. He was particularly annoyed he had not received the complete support of the back row. Some clearly thought Matt had won the day by ignoring the relentless jabbing.

“Leave him alone, man. That’s enough, bro.” In other words, Matt won. Rooster sat back in his seat, his arms folded, his eyes fixed on the back of Matt’s neck. He shook his head slowly and scowled, a storm was building.

Matt and Jed chatted excitedly as they hurried through the school gates. Jed was keen to meet Dylan too. The boys were so deep in conversation they failed to notice they were walking into a trap.

Matt fell forward as his knee was pushed into the tarmac from behind. He felt the skin tear on his knees and hands.

“Sorry, mate,” sneered Rooster. “I was just trying to get past”.

Matt stayed on the ground only partly because he was hurt, mostly because to stand up would invite further abuse.

“Here, want a hand? C’mon man, it was just an accident.” There was a sound of triumph in his voice, an unconcealed delight. He had Matt just where he wanted him. Matt stayed on the ground hoping Rooster would give up and move on. But Rooster was going nowhere, he was still smarting from his defeat in the classroom. There were few opportunities left to target Matt and he was not going to miss this one.

“Hi, Matt. Who’s your friend?”

Matt turned his head and looked up. There was Dylan, smiling, hands in his pockets. This was not the same smile as yesterday though, or the same voice. The smile was tight, the voice menacing. Dylan walked closer.

“It was an accident, I was trying to help him up.” Rooster stepped back. He didn’t sound very sure of himself now and Matt knew why. Rooster knew he could work the teachers, but he didn’t know Dylan and potentially there was more than a detention at stake.

Dylan stared at Rooster while he spoke. “It was no accident, I saw what happened. You’re a bully and arse ugly at that.”

“Excuse me, Miss,” called Dylan as he waved his hand to a passing teacher.

“Yes?” she asked, with practised disinterest.

Matt slowly got up and inspected his grazed hands. He could see they were going to hurt for a while. He looked at the teacher, then back down at the ground, she would be no help.

“Is there a problem?” her disinterest made even clearer.

Dylan stared back at the teacher for a moment before speaking. “This boy’s just tripped up Matt, look at his knees.” He pointed to Matt’s bleeding knees then looked back to the teacher.

“You boys are always mucking about,” she said dismissively. “Just leave each other alone.”

She gave Rooster and Matt a stern look, turned, and strode away. As the teacher left, Rooster walked slowly backwards, grinning in triumph. Just before he reached the school gates he pulled the finger at Dylan.

Dylan nodded slowly. “Thanks for the invitation, pal.”

He turned and held out his hand to Jed. “Hi, I’m Dylan. Okay, let’s get going. We can sort the wounds out when we get to Art’s.”

Matt looked down at his knees and held out his hands for closer inspection, but Dylan and Jed were already walking down the road and chatting. Matt had been hoping for a bit more sympathy. 

“Can we go by my place and drop off my bag?” called Matt.

Just as the day before, Dylan led the conversation, asking Jed about school, plans for the holidays, and what was happening in his world. Matt wanted to join in but didn’t know how. He felt a little jealous but kept this to himself. After all, Jed was his best friend and he would soon be walking a different way.

Dylan waited on the footpath while Matt ran down the drive to drop off his bag. “How’s Jane?” he asked when Matt returned.

“Okay,” Matt replied. “Where are we going?”

Dylan noted the change of subject and decided to leave further questions about Jane for now. “We’re going to see Art. He’s the bloke I was telling you about yesterday. Come on, let’s go.”

Matt struggled to keep up and began to puff so hard he could only speak in short bursts. Dylan pressed on though, seemingly unaware of his struggle.

Matt stared at the house, he had often walked past and wondered who lived there. It was an older white, wooden house with elaborate trimmings around the windows and under the gutters. It was perfectly painted, with comfy-looking chairs on the verandah. Between the gate and the house there was a crowded flower garden flowing onto a brick path. Matt thought it looked beautiful, it was nothing like his house. Matt paused on the path and looked at the garden. He could hear bees buzzing and smell the flowers.

“Fatso, we’re home,” called Dylan as he opened the door.

Matt heard music and the clatter of dishes. “Come in, come in. I’m in the kitchen.” It was a cheery call, almost singing. “But leave your shoes and attitude outside.” 

Matt took off his shoes and put them next to the others by the front door. There was a small sign that read ‘Shoes and Attitude.’ The floors were polished wood, there were colourful rugs, flowers in vases, brightly patterned covers on the couches and chairs, and paintings on the walls. Matt walked slowly, there was colour everywhere. This was Matt concluded, the most beautiful house he’d ever seen. The kitchen was huge and to Matt’s eye, very flash. The dining room alongside it was partly a conservatory that opened out onto a larger deck where Matt saw an awning, outdoor furniture and more garden beyond that.

“Welcome, you must be Matt. I’m Arthur, but you can call me Art.” 

There was an emphasis on the ‘you’ that made Matt feel special. Art put his hand on Matt’s shoulder. “Now come and show me what vegetables you like and which you don’t. There is only one rule.” Art held up one finger and smiled. “You must be honest. Food is to be enjoyed. Especially here, and you can’t do that with food that makes you gag! Though when you get older you’ll find a few wines will help.”

Matt looked at the vegetables. They were lined up on the kitchen bench, they all looked perfect, clean, and fresh. Matt pointed to the broccoli and carrots. Actually, they were the only ones he recognised.

“Broccoli and carrots it is, with rack of lamb,” said Art rubbing his hands and jiggling his eyebrows. “What would you like to drink? There is of course water, but also apple juice or orange juice.”

“Orange juice please,” said Matt.

“Did you hear that, Dylan? Matt said please. I thought you said he was just like you?”

Dylan was relaxing in a chair. “I meant he was slim and good looking like me, that’s all,” he said while winking at Matt.

“I’m kind of skinny, don’t you think, Matt?” asked Art with a pleading tone.

“Remember, Matt,” said Dylan with a hint of triumph, “it’s the same as the veges, the truth, and only the truth!”

Matt smiled, he didn’t know what to say. Art wasn’t skinny, not really fat either, mostly just a big belly, though he did have quite skinny legs. He took the offered juice, sat next to Dylan, and watched Art preparing the food. Art was singing along quietly with the music. Matt noticed Art had long hair at the back, which he thought made him look a bit playful.

“Hey, Art,” called Dylan. “Do you have something for Matt’s knees?”

Art turned around and looked down. “Goodness, what happened there?” He disappeared for a few moments and reappeared with a plastic box.

“I fell over,” offered Matt as Art knelt in front of him.

“Hmmm, socks off and outside,” ordered Art with mock authority.

Matt sat down on the deck outside the kitchen, he could hear the sound of water splashing in a sink. “Right, you can sponge your knees with this while I get a towel.”

Matt could smell the antiseptic, it reminded him of going to the dentist. He felt a little guilty as after a closer look he could see his knees were not that bad.

“How are they looking?” asked Art as he returned with a towel. “Hmm, not too bad. Well done, now dry them off with this and let’s take a good look.”

Matt gently dabbed his knees, not wanting to get blood on the towel.

“Don’t worry about the towel, Matt, it’ll clean up just fine. Right this job’s done, no bandages required. Let’s get back to cooking!” He rubbed his hands and smiled broadly. “Cooking is one of the delights of life, along with the eating of course. You can help with that part.”

Matt felt a sudden chill in his stomach. He hadn’t told Bill he was out for dinner, more importantly, he hadn’t told Bill he was with Dylan. A nauseous feeling flooded through his body.

“Dylan,” called Matt with a slight waver in his voice.

Dylan walked over and sat down next to Matt. “What’s up, buddy?”

“I didn’t know about dinner and didn’t tell Bill, I’m supposed to be home by six.”

“Do you want to call home?” asked Dylan.

Matt sat quietly, he didn’t know how to explain the situation to Dylan. “Jane will get upset,” he said quietly.

“Okay,” said Dylan, pausing while he thought. “Should we call Bill?”

Matt nodded glumly, he was not looking forward to fessing up. Then abruptly, “No, I should just go home.” Matt had changed his mind, it was best to avoid trouble.

Dylan rubbed his chin and looked straight ahead. He leaned forward and placed his face in his hands. Matt wondered what he was thinking. Was he angry?  Finally, Dylan turned to face Matt. “No, Matt, that would not be best. We need to sort this. Please trust me and put Bill’s number in my phone.” Dylan pulled out his phone and handed it to Matt. “Please don’t put in the number for Dial a Prayer.” Dylan was resolute, the voice matter of fact. Matt reluctantly put Bill’s number into the phone.

“Bill might get upset if you call,” he said as he passed the phone back. He felt cold in his stomach at the thought of Bill finding out he was with Dylan.

“That’s his choice and his problem,” said Dylan, “he has to get over it at some point, and the sooner the better.” Dylan put his hand on Matt’s shoulder. “Trust me.” Dylan stood up and wandered off with the phone to his ear. Matt heard him say, ‘Bill, great to hear your voice, it’s Dylan.’ His voice faded as he wandered through the house.

Matt was sitting, staring into the garden wishing he’d insisted on going home when he felt a nudge on his back. A small white and grey cat was pushing up against him. Its back was curved up high and its tail, a very long tail, was stretched right up to Matt’s shoulder. Matt gently reached around to stroke the cat, being careful not to scare it.

“Matt, meet Tac. Tac, meet Matt,” called Arthur from the kitchen.

Tac carefully made his way around and climbed onto Matt’s lap, sniffing as he went. Once satisfied with his inspection Tac started prodding with his paws. Matt felt the prickle of claws through his shorts. After a minute or so of prodding and prickling, Tac turned around and around in circles before settling down and starting to purr. Matt tentatively ran his fingers along Tac’s back.

“Tac is a very good judge of character,” called Art, “and he seems to really like you!”

Matt smiled, he liked the feeling of Tac on his lap. Tac wriggled a bit and carefully tucked his tail around as he made himself comfortable.

Dylan’s voice got louder as he walked back to the deck. “He’s right here, I’ll pass you over. Great to chat, Bill. See you soon.” Dylan winked and passed the phone to Matt, giving him a thumbs up.

“Hi, Bill,” said Matt tentatively.

“Gidday, Matt,” said Bill, sounding surprisingly happy, “you enjoy your dinner and I’ll see you later. Please text me when you start walking.”

“Yep, sure,” said Matt.

“You enjoy yourself. Everything’s okay.”

Matt handed the phone to Dylan.

“It was easy,” said Dylan, smiling and holding his hands out wide. “I just told him the truth.”

Matt smiled back while wondering quite what the truth was that Dylan told Bill.

“Now this is a meal, Matt.” Art was smiling and holding out his glass. “A bit early I know, but this way we can sit outside in the sun. Here’s to tomorrow, Matt’s last day of school for the year!”

Matt held up his juice and they ceremoniously clinked their glasses together.

“This really is a meal,” thought Matt. Large colourful plates, a bright tablecloth. Even the food was laid out carefully. Best of all, it tasted great. Matt listened as Art and Dylan chatted about the news of the day, teasing one another and involving Matt in their banter. Music played gently in the background. After they had eaten, Matt helped Art clean up in the kitchen and wash the dishes. Matt had never seen such a clean and well-organised kitchen, everything had its special place. He learned that Art was a music and art teacher.

Art led Matt over to the piano. “Play any music?” asked Art. Art sat down and started to play then looked up at Matt. “Music is the soundtrack to life, Matt.”

Matt listened while Art played several tunes, some classical, some not, a few he recognised. Matt thought Art must be the very best pianist there was. After a while Art stood up, smiled, and beckoned Matt to sit at the piano.

“Now press any keys,” said Art, flippantly waving his arm. “Any keys.”

Matt didn’t know what to do. He carefully put his fingers on some keys and pushed down. An awkward sound, not very musical at all, filled the room.

“Did you hear that, Dylan? Matt can play the piano!” exclaimed Art with theatrical delight.

“I’m actually very impressed,” called Dylan from the couch.

“Now, Matt”, said Art leaning forward with both hands in front of him. “You can tell someone who can’t play the piano very simply. When they press on the keys, no sound comes out. If sound comes out, they can play. And you, Matt, can learn to play.” He smiled. “Now let’s get started.”

Art pulled up a chair alongside Matt and began explaining the layout of the keys, showing Matt a simple tune to try and remember. Dylan watched from the couch and smiled to himself. He could remember Art taking him through the exact same lesson.

Art stood up. “You practice that for a bit while I catch up with Dylan.”

Dylan smiled and gave Art a thumbs up. After a while Matt turned around, he was tired from concentrating on which keys to press and seemed to have reached a plateau.

“That was very good, Matt”, said Art while nodding thoughtfully. “You’re welcome to practice whenever you visit.”

Matt nodded back. “That,” he thought, “would be good.”

Dylan stood up. “Before you go, I have something to show you. Follow me.”

Matt followed Dylan outside to an old shed with folding wooden doors. Dylan jiggled them back and forth until they slid open. The shed contained most of the things you might expect to find in an old shed, an old car, and gardening tools hanging on the walls. But there was also something you would not expect to see, the motorbike. It was a gleaming, purposeful speed machine which was, as Dylan put it, a ‘road weapon.’ This bike was not made for gentle touring. It was made to test the limits, to enthral and specifically, Dylan had said while stroking the tank, ‘to top 300kph.’

“Tomorrow, on your last day of school, I’m going to pick you up on this bike. And this is what I need you to do”.

Matt listened to Dylan’s instructions. He practised getting on and off the bike and putting on the helmet. He practised squeezing with his knees and holding the straps on Dylan’s jacket. Though all the while he was thinking, “I can’t do this, I must not do this.”

As he walked home, his head was awash with worries. Would Bill still be happy that he hadn’t come home for dinner? Would Dylan really meet him tomorrow after school?