If

If I hadn’t slipped, this day would have turned out very differently. If the street cleaner had started just a bit earlier, there may have been nothing to find. If the rain from the night before hadn’t made the leaves treacherous underfoot, if the bus not been early, I would have got to school on time and it would have been a normal Thursday in the first year of secondary school.

If you have ever regularly caught a bus, you know what I mean when I say that as the front door closed I knew I had a comfortable twenty seconds to spare. Dog lady was where she normally was, Mr Frenessi was closing the twelve locks on his front door, and the yellow Chevrolet that had once nearly run me over was merrily going its merry way. As you walk past Oak row and turn right onto the beautifully scenic Meadow Lane, you have a clear view right up to the traffic lights on the hill. Normally the bus is just cresting the top; and you can leisurely stroll the ten yards to the nearest bus stop.

Today as I turned the corner the bus roared past; and as my brain caught up with my eyes, adrenaline surged and animal instincts took over. I reversed direction and sprinted towards Hoppers Alley. The next bus stop was a busy three streets over; and the bus had two traffic lights that it would occasionally stop at on the way. As well as providing me with this information and the shortcut between the buildings, my brain cheerfully reminded me that the fish and chips next to the bus stop was extremely tasty, if a bit on the greasy side.

At the alley I changed direction in an athletic sideways skid. Satchel flying, mind reeling and panic threatening to overwhelm me I turned the corner like a stallion, at a speed which would have made any gym teacher sign me up for the cross country team in a heartbeat. Past the first alley, left turn, right turn, and in the second I came into the straight, with the knowledge that it was enough, I was going to make it.

That’s when my foot hit the leaf. Or pile of leaves. Or small lumpy frog. To be honest I don’t know. Whatever it was my dedicated pounding victory run became a graceless tumbling fall, hands coming out in front of me as my bag came up and over my head, spilling books, pens and other debris into the alley as I skidded to a stop.

Madly, frantically rushing, I scrabbled amongst the leafy floor of the alley, grabbing my books by the fistful and shoving them roughly in the bag; noting absent-mindedly as I did that my right hand had a long painful graze right across the palm. I looked up and the bus went past the end of the alley. I was up again and moving. Had I banged my head? I shot out of the alley by the chip shop, and sure enough was just in time to see the tail end of the bus disappear around the corner.

I wasn’t upset. I was just stunned. I felt like I had been knocked under the bus, not just missed it. Suddenly I heard panting behind me, and turned round. I must have looked a sight – my Gran always calls me scarecrow but that’s mostly just my hair. I’m tall for an eleven year old boy, but my clothes aren’t. My mum works at a café in Nelly called Dingo Beach, which doesn’t serve dingo and isn’t near a beach, so we can’t afford a new set of clothes every time I grow out of them. That’s what she says anyway. The girl who was jogging after me made her school uniform look good. She had brown hair, a petite perfect face, and she was at least two years older than me. I instinctively stepped out of her way since that was undoubtedly what she wanted. She didn’t.

“This is yours.” She said, holding something in her hand. It was difficult to tear myself away from her eyes, but after a pause of a couple of seconds where her smile didn’t waver, I looked down and saw that she was holding a book. A small, sleek, glossy black notebook in immaculate condition. I knew two things straight away. Firstly, it wasn’t mine; and secondly, that there wasn’t a snowballs chance in hell that I was going to admit that.

“Thank you” I said, while my mind gibbered in the background. I paused and then spoke into the silence. “How did you know?”

I reached for the book and realised as I did that my hand was grubby, with a drop of blood forming on the graze. I looked down, and my trousers had dirt smears from the fall and my shirt looked like I had been playing football.

“It was where you fell” she said, but kindly. “You must have missed it. You were going really fast.”

Embarrassment was threatening to shut me down so I just nodded and mumbled. She paused and looked at me. Then she smiled again. “See you tomorrow, Trent. I’m Adi. Got to go – bus.”

“See you tomorrow? See you tomorrow.” I mumbled as the shadow of a bus pulled up behind me, going to another destination. Trent? Tomorrow? Was this some sort of code? I was happy to change bus stops if she wanted me to. Was I? I turned round and she smiled again as she got on the bus, raised her hand so I raised mine to wave to. The book was still in it. I felt foolish and pulled it down again.

The bus had left before I realised that I could have got that one halfway to school. Maybe it was the shock, adrenaline, something like that, but I started to laugh. There were just a couple of people at the usually busy bus stop now. A street cleaner turned into the alley and started sweeping the piles of leaves, and the guy in the fish and chip shop was standing with oil strainer in hand looking at me. I took stock and realised that I did need to get home and clean myself up; maybe get a lift with auntie Sarah as she took mum to work; I would be a bit late, but less late than waiting for the next bus.

As I started to walk back home, into the alley and manoeuvring around the cleaner’s cart, I opened the front cover of the book, and the name ‘Trent Harvey’ was in the top left corner. Ah. That was why she had said Trent. She thought it was my name. I flicked a couple of pages and about half the book was filled with scribbled notes, mechanical diagrams and equations.

At the end there was a little poem, and I stopped the flicking paper with my finger. It read:

All dance together

The clues beneath the scene

Genius lies in noticing

That which lies unseen

To tie a string of knowing

Above, beyond, between.

The poem itself didn’t interest me, but next to it was a phone number. Good. Later. The book went into the leafy bag and I hurried home.

To chaos. Auntie Sarah was there, and so was her car – but smoke was coming from under her bonnet and she was standing next to it. Mum was on her mobile trying to convince someone to come and pick her up. She was already dressed for work. She couldn’t be late. Not again. I dashed past mother’s wide eyes, used my key and sprinted up the stairs to change like lightning. My mobile stayed in my room during school time, school rules.

There was no way of getting to school on time now. It must be mum’s friend Claude on the phone, I realised. The only other person that ever gave mum a lift. I looked out the window. She was talking to Auntie Sarah and shaking her head.

I have this belief. I don’t know why. There is always a way out. Often the universe hands you a key before you even see the lock. I changed, did my tie and picked up the phone. Pulling the little black book out of the bag, I called the number. A chirpy girl’s voice answered almost immediately.

“Devencorp, how can I help?”

“Uh, is that Trent Harvey?”

“No, can I ask who is calling?” the lady replied.

I got the impression that she didn’t really care who was calling, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to tell her my name.

“I found a book with his name in.”

The voice on the other end suddenly sounded like a real person. “Oh that’s wonderful, hang on a minute. I’ll put you through to him.

There was a pause, just long enough to wonder whether I had been accidentally disconnected. Outside mum and Sara were standing by the car. A voice spoke into the silence. An oaky voice, used to giving commands and having them listened to. Strong, but calm and gentle.

“Hi, this is Trent Harvey. I understand you’ve found my notebook.”

“Er, yes sir. What do you want me to do with it?”

The voice at the other end of the phone paused.

“How old are you son?”

“Er… I’m eleven.”

“Do you know who I am?”

“Your name is in your book. Your phone number was there to.”

“And that’s why you’re ringing?”

“Well, yeah, it looks important. You’ve written lots of stuff in there.”

“Okay, great – well if you tell me where you are right now, I can have a driver come and pick it up.”

I took the phone away from my ear and looked at it. I couldn’t believe it. This was such amazing luck.

“Can I ask for something? It’s not a lot.”

The voice at the other end became instantly guarded and formal.

“Tell me what you were hoping for.”

“When your driver comes, can you take my mum to work – only, Auntie Sarah’s car has broken down.”

The voice warmed again.

“Happy to. Just give me your address. Is that all you wanted?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’m going to be late for school, but that’s not so important.”

I gave our address and then opened the window, calling mum to come upstairs.

“Ow” said Trent. “The car is on it’s way. It should be there in under ten minutes. I disagree, by the way. School is very important.”

I don’t know why I said it. I should have just said nothing. Sometimes things just come out of my mouth and I wish they didn’t. I was suddenly annoyed.

“It’s not important. Our car is broken. Dad died while playing football. Football – two years ago. Whether or not you learn, it’s important. Whether or not you get paid, it’s important. It’s all important, and none of it is. Walking in the park, with your dad. That’s important. Getting to school on time; well, if I had done that you wouldn’t be getting your notebook back. Is it important? Well, you tell me.”

My brain was screaming at my mouth to shut up, so I did. There was a long pause at the other end of the line and then the voice spoke again.

“You don’t know it, kid, but you’ve just helped me make a 420 million dollar decision. It’s important, but it’s not important. Thanks.” With that, he hung up.

The driver arrived to take my mum to work and picked up the book. He took me to school as well. He insisted.

Later that day mum was hysterical. She said that $20,000 had been transferred to her account – the description that came with the transaction just said “above, beyond, between.” She didn’t know what it meant, so I told her it meant she would be driving her own car from now on.