Free Cool! by Michael Morpurgo Page B

in a coma; sometimes people tell me secret things. Maybe it’s because they don’t really believe I can hear them, that I’ll ever wake up. But I can and I will. Tracey’s always going on about her boyfriend, Trevor, where they went last night, what he said to her when he said goodnight. Trevor! What a name!
    She was angry with him again this morning, because he forgot her birthday. Either she’s furious with him or she loves him to bits. Can’t make up her mind. I reckon Trevor must be a nerd, a right nerd. I’ll tell her so when I wake up.
    I’m dozing off now, drifting away. But Mum won’t let me. She’s bending over me. She’s still here. She’s close to me. I can feel her warmth, feel her hair falling onmy face as she kisses me. “Your dad’ll be in to see you later, Robbie. And I’ll be in again tomorrow.” Now she’s crying. “Please wake up, Robbie, please.”
    I’m trying, Mum, I’m trying. And Ellie’s kissing me too. I’ve got a wet ear now.
    “I brought you Pongo,” she says. “He’ll look after you. He’ll help you wake up.”Pongo is her flop-eared, cuddly rabbit, pale blue with pink eyes. He’s her absolute favourite cuddly toy. She hates being without him. I want to hug her. I want to say thank you. I want to tell her that Pongo’s cool, really cool. But they’ve gone, and I’m alone.

PRAYERS AT SCHOOL FOR COMA BOY
    Prayers were said this morning at the primary school in Tiverton for Robbie Ainsley who was knocked down by a car last week. Headteacher Mrs Tinley said: “Robbie is a very popular boy at school with children and teachers alike. He plays centre forward in the school football team, sings in the choir, and only recently played Oliver Twist in our school production of Oliver.”
    Robbie Ainsley remains in a coma and on a life support system in Wonford Hospital where doctors say his condition is unchanged.

2
    D ad’s here. He comes most days, but never with Mum. They don’t do anything together any more, not since he moved out. He’s reading to me. The BFG again. It’s always The BFG. I like it, but not that much. I know why he’s doing it, though. Doctor Smellybreath’s always saying it, to everyone who comes to visit me. He says anything could wake me up at any time – a voice I recognise, a book I know, a song I like, or some big surprise. He says everyone’s got to try to find a way through to me, and one of the best ways is by jogging my memory.
    So Dad sits here reading The BFG. I know it by heart, Dad, and it’s not waking me up. Talk to me, Dad. I just want you to talk to me, like you used to. But he doesn’t. He always says exactly the same thing when he first comes in to see me. “Hello, Robbie. You all right then?” Silly question, Dad. Then he gives me a kiss on my forehead, pats my hand, sits down and starts to read. He doesn’t even tell me who won the football.
    Sometimes he stops reading for a while and I hear him breathing, and I feel him just sitting there looking at me. He’s doing that now. I know he is. He’s moving his chair closer. He’s going to talk to me. He’s going to say something.
    “Robbie? Robbie? Are you there?” Of course I am, Dad. Where else would I be?My nose is itching, Dad. I wish you would scratch it for me. I wish I could scratch it for me.
    “Say something to me, Robbie. Move a finger, or anything. Please.” I can’t, Dad. Don’t you think I would if I could?
    “I’ll finish the chapter then, shall I?” He’s closer still now, so close I can feel his breath on my ear. “It’s The BFG , Robbie. Your favourite.” I know it is, Dad. Please don’t read to me, Dad. Just talk to me. But I hear him turning the page. On he goes. I shouldn’t complain. He reads it brilliantly. Well, he should. He is an actor after all. His BFG voice is really cool, all booming and funny, like laughing thunder.
    Great! Tracey’s come in again. She’s singing. I love to hear her singing. Days I’ll remember all my life.