Read Online Mister Cassowary by Samantha Wheeler - Free Book Online Page B

aren’t you? Just like your grandad.’
    â€˜I wouldn’t know,’ I mumbled.
    â€˜What was that?’
    â€˜You don’t even care what happened to Grandad Barney, Dad!’ I shouted. ‘Just like you don’t care about cassowaries. Have you thought about the cassowary we hit? What if he had a family? If you cared, even a bit, you’d take me to the rehab centre Grandad Barney built, and you’d ask the rangers about the cassowary. But you won’t. Because you’re scared.’
    â€˜Flynn! What’s got into you?’
    â€˜It’s true! You’re scared of them. You jump every time you think you hear one. They’re only birds.’
    â€˜Cassowaries are not just birds,’ Dad growled. ‘They’re the most dangerous birds in the world. They can …’ He narrowed his eyes, inspecting my face like he was seeing it for the first time.
    I glared at the pile of plastic bags. ‘Dad, I didn’t even know Grandad. Or why he loved cassowaries so much.’ My words came out like hiccups, all up and down and squeaky. ‘That’s why I want to go to the rehab centre. To find out who he was.’
    Dad stepped closer and put his arm around me. ‘Look, I’ll admit,’ he said, ‘I am a little over-­protective sometimes. You’re my son, Flynn, and I love you.’ He squeezed my shoulders. ‘I guess I have been away too much. I hadn’t realised how grown up you are, and … well, if it really means that much to you to see Grandad’s centre, then …’
    I blinked, determined not to cry.
    â€˜The truth is, it won’t do me any harm either,’ continued Dad, releasing my shoulders. ‘When it comes to cassowaries, it’s just …’ He sighed. ‘It’s not that I don’t trust you, Flynn, you know that, don’t you? Cassowaries and me … well, it’s a long story, and a little hard to explain right now. But how about we take one step at a time, and start by going to the working bee.’

I rang Mum at six the next morning.
    â€˜Hey, Mum.’
    â€˜Hi, honey. You’re up early. I’m just on my way home from night shift. How’re things?’
    â€˜Good. Hey, guess what?’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜Dad and I are going to the working bee!’
    â€˜You are?’
    â€˜Yep! Dad changed his mind. He’s coming, too. And while we’re there, I’m going to look for …’ I hesitated. Should I tell Mum about the baby cassowaries and my plan to look for their dad? Probably not. ‘I’ve got some things to do, that’s all.’
    There was silence down the phone. I wondered if Mum was sleepy after her week of night shifts. But it turned out she was just worrying about Dad. ‘Are you sure Dad’s okay with it?’ she asked eventually. ‘He’s not feeling too … how can I put it … too emotional? Going back to the rehab centre will be a big thing for him, after Grandad Barney’s, you know, accident. Are you sure he said yes?’
    I pressed the phone close. ‘Dad said it’ll do him good,’ I whispered. ‘He’s looking forward to it.’
    Looking forward to it was a bit of a stretch. Dad had been quiet all evening after he’d rung Walter to say we’d be coming. I had a feeling he’d be more than happy if the heavy clouds outside split wide open and washed the working bee away.
    â€˜Well, make sure you keep an eye on him for me, okay?’ said Mum.
    â€˜I will. Bye, Mum.’
    â€˜Bye, honey.’
    I was already waiting on the driveway, watching the wind whirl leaves and flower petals across the lawn, when Walter’s white LandCruiser rattled up.
    A hand waved from the open passenger window, and then a head popped out. Today Abby’s hair was loosely pinned back with sunflower clips. There were no plaits in sight.