Read Online Spurt by Chris Miles - Free Book Online Page B

again?
    Across the table, Marlene looked up from her phone, which she’d been fiddling with the whole time. ‘Can’t say I like the idea of letting all those television cameras into the house.’
    ‘Come on, Mum, it’s just Bigwigs . It’s not Australia’s Most Wanted .’ Adele squeezed Jack’s shoulder. ‘It might be exciting to be back on TV again, don’t you think? Catch up with all the other contestants? Reconnect? Maybe … take your mind off things?’
    Would it, though? thought Jack. For some reason, he couldn’t help thinking it might just make things worse.
    As his mum poured herself another glass of wine, Jack brought up a browser window, swivelled the laptop slightly to the side, and typed ‘Bigwigs past contestants’.
    Each new link he clicked on flashed up images of photo shoots and news grabs and magazine covers, some showing faces he only dimly remembered. YouTube uploads of Piers Blain’s Byteface video blogs. Hope Chanders and the infamous anarchist symbol belly-button ring that had made her lose her recording contract with EMG/Platinum. Then there was Cassie Tau’s Facebook addiction. And Mickey Santini’s slightly-too-choreographed wardrobe malfunction at the Australian Teen Music Awards. And Amit Gondra’s blossoming romance with sixteen-year-old Youth Olympics swimming hopeful Jessica Grouth. And there were others: contestants who’d become celebrity spokespeople and youth ambassadors and music video presenters and regular chat show guests.
    And then there was Jack. The only one, it seemed, who’d stayed where he was. Who’d stayed normal. Stayed the same.
    As much as he wanted to yank himself free from the quicksand of loserdom he’d fallen into at school, this was one lifeline he didn’t dare grasp. He was afraid that if he tried to use the Bigwigs reunion to rescue his reputation, he’d only sink further into a humiliation of national proportions. Because all the producers had to do was show one clip of Jack from when he’d been a contestant on the show, and the whole country would see that he looked and sounded the same as he did in Grade 6: fresh-faced and freckled, like a woodland creature in an old Disney cartoon.
    The forums would melt down with hysterical disbelief. ‘Did you see that Jack Sprigley kid? What a goddamn munchkin!’ ‘I know! I heard he pretends to masturbate at school or something?’
    And it wouldn’t just be the Bigwigs forums. The show was coming back bigger than ever. There’d be current affairs specials and newspaper columns and blogs and hashtags and comment threads all weighing in on his failure to pube it up.
    The fact was, even among the former Bigwigs who’d had brushes with the dark side of semi-fame, nothing anyone else had done was anywhere near as embarrassing as the things Jack’s body had failed to do since Grade 6. So unless he was miraculously blessed with a pube-tacular growth spurt in the next week – when the Bigwigs people were expecting Jack’s answer – he might be signing himself up for an online mauling as well as a schoolground one.
    The low battery warning flashed up on the laptop screen. The short, stubby bar showing the currently available power was completely dwarfed by the long, forbidding tube representing a full charge.
    Yeah , thought Jack. That about sums it up.

    ‘I’ve pretty much decided,’ Jack said. ‘I’m not going to do it.’
    Reese nodded thoughtfully. They’d just turned the corner from Peppertree Drive and were a couple of blocks from school. ‘Good call. You did go kind of weird when those Year 7s unloaded about it the other day.’
    ‘That?’ said Jack. ‘That was just me playing it cool.’
    ‘Uh-huh. Remind me to ask you more about this new definition of “cool” sometime.’ Reese paused. ‘Still, respect. No point trying to compete with those other Bigwigs, dude. Not anymore.’
    Jack frowned. What did that mean? He turned to Darylyn. ‘What do you think, D?’
    ‘I think we