Free The Prince of Neither Here Nor There by Sean Cullen

all trades, dabbling in many fields. He managed to sell enough of his paintings and carvings to bring in a steady if modest income. The workshop was Brendan’s favourite place in the house, next to his own room, and he thought his father was just about the coolest person in the world.
    Brendan watched as his father picked up his chisel and mallet and started to tap ribbons of shavings from the block of wood. In moments, the leg of the gargoyle was roughed out. Brendan was quietly in awe of what his father could do with his hands. The concentration and precision were beyond him. His father had tried to teach him woodworking, too, but with typically poor results.
    “Dad? You ever think you got the wrong kid?”
    His father stopped hammering and looked at Brendan. “Why would you say something like that?”
    His father’s tone was so sharp, Brendan felt he’d said something wrong. “No reason. Well, I mean, I can’t do anything as well as you can. You’d think I’d have some kind of genetically transmitted talent.” He tried to laugh and lighten the mood. “I mean, maybe they switched the kids at the hospital by mistake and somewhere there’s a kid who builds and plays his own guitars, huh?”
    His father didn’t answer him right away. His face was flat and expressionless. Then the moment passed. His father grinned at him. “I can guarantee you we got the right kid, okay?” He went back to tapping at the chisel and muttered, “Your sister? Now, there are some doubts …” He turned his head slightly and winked at Brendan.
    “Dad!”
    “Just kidding. So. How was school today?”
    “All right.” Brendan shrugged. “We got a new substitute teacher. He’s kinda weird.”
    “Aren’t they all?” He turned back to his project. “I have to get this done for the One and Only Craft Show. You like it?” He poked the gargoyle with the head of the mallet.
    “Uh … creepy?” Brendan said and he meant it. The gnarled, snarling face of the carving made him a little uneasy.
    “Creepy’s good. People buy creepy.” Brendan’s father grinned, placing the chisel on an untouched portion of wood and tapping with the mallet, sending a delicate shaving curling to the ground.
    “Dad,” Brendan said, “can I ask you something?”
    “Of course.”
    “You know the scar I have on my chest …”
    The tapping faltered for an instant, then continued. “Yep.”
    “How did it happen again?”
    “We’ve told you the story, haven’t we?”
    “Yeah,” Brendan said. “Mum spilled tea and I got this burn.”
    “Exactly so.” Brendan’s father blew shavings from the wood and began tapping again.
    “It’s a weird shape though, huh.”
    “Sure is.” His father stopped tapping and looked at him. “Why do you mention it?”
    “Oh, no reason really. It’s just that … well, it’s been bugging me a bit.”
    “Bugging you.” Brendan’s father frowned. “Bugging you how?”
    “It’s been itchy and stuff. You know.”
    “Hmmm.” Brendan’s dad furrowed his brow. “Let’s see.”
    Brendan stood, his head banging into a low beam. “Ow.” He winced and rubbed his scalp with one hand as he unbuttoned his white school shirt with the other. He held the shirt open so his father could look.
    “It does look a little red,” he said. “Maybe your mum should look at it.”
    “Naw, it’s okay.” Brendan didn’t want his mum to lose her mind as she always did when anyone showed any sign of ill health. He could do without the cloying attention.
    “Okay. Well, let’s see if it gets better over the next day or two. But do me a favour”—his father winked conspiratorially as he said this— “if it does turn into something serious, don’t tell her I knew about it. Then we’ll both end up in a hospital. Okay?”
    “’Kay.” Brendan laughed. His dad could always make him feel better, which was one of his many gifts. “I’m gonna go wash up for dinner.”
    Brendan headed for the stairs.
    “Hey, B! I almost