My Life and Other Stuff That Went Wrong Read Online Free Page A

weeks.’
    â€˜Where?’
    â€˜Here. Cemetery Hill. First to the top and through the boneyard gates wins.’
    I look at Nan, shaking my head. ‘Let’s just –’
    â€˜Two weeks today. Five am sharp. Bottom of the hill,’ she says.
    â€˜You’re on,’ Sue agrees.
    â€˜Good.’
    â€˜Wonderful.’
    â€˜But you can’t drive the cart in the race,’ I stammer.
    â€˜Watch me!’ Sue barks.
    â€˜It’s fine, love,’ Nan says. ‘I’ll beat her anyway.’
    I shake my head. Jack’s nan drives off.
    â€˜She’ll smash us!’ I groan.
    â€˜Maybe that’s enough for today,’ Nan wheezes. ‘It’s quite steep, isn’t it?’

    Nan is in the garage with her head in the freezer when I arrive at five the next morning.
    â€˜What are you doing?’
    â€˜Acclimatising,’ she says, her voice muffled. She pulls her head out of the freezer. She has icicles hanging from her brows and her face is blue. ‘It can drop to minus-sixty degrees Celsius at the summit.’
    I take her inside, wrap her in a blanket and make her a cup of tea.
    She guzzles it and says, ‘Let’s hit the gym. Bet I can beat you on the bench press.’

    Nan lifts the barbell off the rack.
    â€˜Spot me,’ she says.
    â€˜You sure that’s not too heavy?’
    She’s lying on a weight bench made out of milk crates in the garage. She slowly lets the barbell down to her chest. I’m scared she is going to drop it and her guts will squish out of her ears. I try to help her lift it again.
    â€˜Let go!’ she snaps. So I do.
    She raises it, then brings it down again. This time she really strains to lift it. Her eyeballs swell and I worry she’s going to drop it, but she doesn’t. She presses it up to full arm’s length, then down again. And up. And down. I smile.
    â€˜You’re good,’ I say. ‘Let me get the camera.’ I run out of the garage, up the back steps and grab Nan’s camera off the dining table. I am only gone for ten seconds, but by the time I get back Nan is pinned beneath the barbell and her face is bright red.

    â€˜Nan!’ I pull the barbell off her chest. ‘Are you okay?’
    I sit her up. She leans forward. I wonder if she has broken something.
    â€˜Did you get a picture?’ she asks.
    â€˜No, Nan. I didn’t get a picture.’
    â€˜Maybe tomorrow,’ she says, standing up unsteadily, before flopping back down onto the milk crates. ‘I might need my supplemental oxygen, love. Grab the canister and mask from under my bed. That’s a good boy.’

    The next two weeks are hardcore. Five o’clock, every morning. Weights, sprints on her walking frame, chin-ups. Meanwhile, across town, Jack is training his nan for Everest, too. They fit her cart out with snow tyres and chains. He thinks she’s going to win. And she probably will.
    One morning, on our way home from training, I try to talk Nan out of the whole Everest idea. ‘I heard that it’s best to attempt Mt Kilimanjaro first, that it’s easier.’
    â€˜I don’t have time for Mt Kiliwhatchamacallit. I’m seventy-five years old. I’ll probably be dead before the year’s out.’
    â€˜But Everest takes seven weeks. And, Nan, I read that with airfare, permits, climbing gear, sherpas and everything, it costs about forty-thousand dollars. How will you afford it?’
    â€˜I have a few dollars tucked away,’ she says, tapping the side of her nose. When we get home she shows me all this money under her mattress. Some of the notes I don’t even recognise. She reckons she’s been sticking it there for thirty-five years. ‘I never trusted banks,’ she says. ‘Or your grandfather.’
    I tell her I’ve been reading on the internet about hypothermia, frostbite and how you can get sunburn in your nostrils from thereflection