The Day I Was Erased

by Lisa Thompson

  I switched the kettle on and put a teabag in each mug. I got the milk out of the fridge. There wasn’t much left.

  “You’re running out, Reg,” I said, giving the carton a little shake. “Do you want me to go and get some for you?”

  Reg took the milk from me.

  “You don’t want to be doing that,” he laughed awkwardly. “We don’t even know each other!”

  The kettle clicked off and I poured water into the mugs.

  “Come on. I’ll show you who I am,” I said, putting the kettle back. I held his elbow and guided him into the lounge. He stood beside me in front of the fireplace. Resting on the mantelpiece was my portrait of Reg that had come first in a national drawing competition. It was framed and behind glass. I picked it up.

  “See this picture of you? I drew it. Remember? I won a big prize for my school.”

  I held it towards him.

  “Look, it says, Reg by Maxwell Beckett. That’s me. I’m Maxwell.”

  One day I hoped he’d learn to recognize me straight away, but that day hadn’t come yet.

  “Maxwell … ah yes. I know, I know … I know who you are. Of course I do,” he said, but I could tell by his face that he didn’t. He settled down into his armchair. “Go and get the biscuit tin, would you, Maxwell? There’s a new pack of Jammie Dodgers in there.”

  I went back to the kitchen, finished making the tea and got the biscuit tin out of the cupboard. I put everything on a tray, took it into the lounge and put it on a little table in front of the sofa. I passed Reg his tea and took a slurp of mine. I looked around the tidy room. In one corner stood a dark brown cabinet with big glass doors. The shelves inside were crammed full of old stuff. Reg once said that the contents of that cabinet were priceless, but it all looked like a pile of junk if you asked me.

  I took the lid off the biscuit tin and pointed it towards him. He took three and sat back, resting two on his chest and dunking the other in his tea.

  “So, Maxwell. How’s things?” he said. This was Reg’s way of trying to work out who I was.

  “Not very good actually, Reg. I’ve had a very bad day,” I said. “I got in trouble again. First I told everyone about the TV crew coming to the Centenary Ball tomorrow. Then I was messing about in PE and I banged heads with Charlie Geek. He got a nosebleed and there was blood everywhere and he fainted and the school think I did it on purpose. But I didn’t! I really didn’t. It was a complete accident.”

  Reg nodded as he listened.

  “I see … I see… Got a big nose, has he?”

  “Sorry?”

  Reg picked up a biscuit from his chest and dunked it in his tea.

  “This Charlie fellow.”

  “Erm, no. Not particularly. Anyway … that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m not allowed to go to the Centenary Ball tomorrow. The Jed and Baz TV Roadshow is going to be there! They’re recording at our school! And now … and now I’ve got to miss it.”

  I felt my eyes filling up as I bit my lip.

  Reg nodded a few times as he finished his biscuit. I watched him, waiting for him to say something as he picked the crumbs off his jumper with his fingertips. There was a long pause, and then: “Have I ever shown you my collection of mermaid scales?”

  I sighed. I don’t know why I expected Reg to have any words of wisdom; he lived in his own world too much. I gave him a weak smile.

  “Mermaid scales? No. No, Reg, you haven’t.”

  He put his tea down and levered himself up.

  “Ah, come with me then and I’ll show you,” he said, grinning as he headed towards the glass cabinet. I put my mug down and followed him. When he opened the cabinet doors a whiff of dust and something gross filled my nostrils. It smelled like something was rotting in there. What looked like an old leather shoe was propped up against the side of the glass and I suspected that that was probably the cause of the revolting stench. He moved an old globe to one side and took out a plastic tub, prised the lid off and pointed it towards me.

  “Here they are,” he said in a whisper. “Mermaid scales…”

  I peered inside. Lying at the bottom of the tub was a big pile of teardrop-shaped objects. I picked one out and held it up to the light. It was smooth and shiny and felt like plastic. I knew exactly what they were.

  “Reg, these are guitar plectrums. You use them to strum a guitar. To pick the strings. They’re not mermaid scales.”

  Reg frowned, then scurried his hand around in the tub.

  “Guitar plectrums? But my grandfather never played the guitar. Why would he keep such things? Let me see…” His face scowled as he searched. “There must be some scales in here somewhere, where are they?” He began to shake the box around and a couple of plectrums flew out and on to the floor.

  “Don’t worry, Reg,” I said, picking them up and putting them back. “Let’s find the mermaid scales another day, eh?”

  He stared at the tub looking confused.

  “Hey, what’s this thing?” I said, picking up the flat, leather shoe. “This looks really cool.”

  Reg quickly put the lid back on the box of plectrums.

  “Ah! You’ve found the shrunken head! Wonderful, wonderful.”

  “A head?!” I said, dropping it on the floor.

  “Careful, Maxwell! That’s precious, that is!” He bent down and picked it up, turning it over and over in amazement.

  “Where did it come from?” I said, wiping my hands on my trousers.

  “My grandfather traded his best boots for this poor old chap in the depths of the Amazon. He ran into a tribe deep in the forest and started off having to bargain with his life and then ended up coming away with this fella. He was great at getting people to like him, my granddad was.”

  Reg chuckled to himself as he stared at the shrunken head. It really did look like a dried-up old leather shoe to me. I hoped he’d just got the story muddled up and that it was, in fact, his grandfather’s shrivelled-up boot. He put it back into the cupboard and picked up an oval-shaped piece of wood the size of his palm. It looked like a wooden egg and around the outside was a delicate carved pattern. He held it up.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  Reg put his head on one side.

  “It’s a box,” he said. “A musical box.”

  I stared at the strange wooden egg. “A box? It doesn’t look like a box. How do you open it?”

  Reg didn’t say anything.

  “Can I have a look?” I said. He paused for a moment and then passed it to me. It was quite heavy and I needed two hands to hold it. I turned it around carefully and examined the surface which was carved with tiny swirling patterns.

  “There’s no way of opening it,” I said, looking at it closely. I gave it a little shake. I could hear something rattling. “What’s inside?”

  Reg frowned at the egg and rubbed his eyebrow.

  “I can’t … I can’t remember,” he said sadly. It was as though the answer was locked away in his brain but he’d lost the key.

  “Let’s not worry about it now, eh, Reg?” I said. I put the carved wooden egg back on the cabinet shelf where it wobbled then lay on its side, resting against a black felt hat.

  I reached for the old globe that was wedged in a corner. It was so faded you could barely make out the outline of the countries and there were tiny holes punctured here and there.

  “What do all these holes mean?” I asked. Reg opened his mouth but he just looked blank.

  “I … I don’t know…” he said. He looked embarrassed so I quickly put the globe back and closed the cabinet doors.

  “I know! Shall we have another biscuit?” I said and Reg’s face brightened.

  “What a marvellous idea! Let’s do that,” he said, heading back to his armchair. He sat down and picked up another Jammie Dodger.

  “That’s rotten about not being able to go to your big school party,” he said. “You must have been looking forward to that for a long time.”

  He had been listening afte
r all. I felt a knot in the middle of my stomach tighten. He was right; it was rotten and it wasn’t fair.

  “I can’t believe they’re not letting me go after everything I’ve done for them,” I said, digging my nails into my palms.

  “Well, it can’t be helped,” said Reg, brushing crumbs from his chin. “If the school have said you can’t go then that’s it I guess. Rules are rules.”

  I looked at Reg and he frowned at me as a big smile spread across my face.

  “Ah, but I don’t do ‘rules’, Reg,” I said, raising my eyebrows and giving them a little wiggle. I took another biscuit and sat back on the sofa. My heart raced as I thought of my plan.

  “Maxwell Beckett is going to the ball whether they like it or not,” I said.

  Bex spent five hours getting ready. FIVE. Whenever I went to use the bathroom she was in there, steam escaping from underneath the door as if she was concocting some strange experiment inside. I’ve never known her to take so long to get ready for anything. She came out with a towel wrapped around her, then disappeared into her bedroom for such a long time that Mum had to knock to check she was OK. Bex let her in and closed the door but I could still hear them through the wall. She was saying something about her dress not looking right and thinking everyone would laugh at her.

  I’d never known Bex to be that bothered about her clothes before, unlike a lot of the other girls at school. I’d seen Claudia Bradwell in the playground boasting about her dress for weeks, showing everyone pictures on her phone while the other girls ooohed and ahhhed over it and told her how amazing she’d look. Bex had gone shopping with Mum last Saturday. They were out all day and when they came home Bex ran upstairs carrying a big silver bag which she hid in her room. Dad and I hadn’t seen what she’d picked, but whatever it was she was clearly having second thoughts about it now.

  I hung around in my bedroom trying to hear what was going on and eventually Bex’s door opened and Mum came out with a fixed grin on her face.

  “Ah, Maxwell. Look at your beautiful sister. She looks amazing, doesn’t she?” She held the door and Bex appeared wearing a pale yellow dress. Her hair was curled and piled on top of her head and her face looked kind of orange. Her shoulders were rolled forward as if she was trying to fold up into herself.

  “Blimey, Bex,” I said. “You look … you look a bit…” Bex narrowed her eyes at me.

  “She looks beautiful. That’s what you were going to say. Isn’t it, Maxwell?” Mum said, fixing me with a glare.

  “Well … actually, I was just going to say that…”

  “Right!” interrupted Mum. “Shall we go and show your dad? Come on.”

  Mum put her arm around Bex’s shoulder but she shrugged her off. She stared at me and I stared back at her and then she turned to Mum.

  “I’m getting changed,” she said. She ran to her room and slammed the door. Mum glared at me.

  “What did you do that for?” she said.

  I couldn’t believe it.

  “What? I didn’t do anything!” I said.

  Mum rubbed at her face.

  “It took me ages to convince her she looked lovely. Why do you always have to spoil everything, Maxwell? Why?”

  I could see tears beginning to fill her eyes.

  “B-but I didn’t say anything!” I said. Mum turned away and went downstairs. A few minutes later, Bex appeared from her bedroom wearing her black skinny jeans and her favourite grey top with History Ain’t Dead written on the front. On her feet she wore some scruffy trainers. She’d wiped most of the make-up off her face and braided her hair into a plait which she wore on one side. She looked more like my sister again. I gave her a smile but she just blanked me and went downstairs. I followed.

  “Bex! There you are,” said Dad nervously. He looked at what she was wearing. “Oh, aren’t you going to the ball?”

  “Yes, I’m going,” said Bex, sniffing.

  Dad nodded his head.

  “I see … OK… Well, that’s great! You look … different.” Dad said. “Very dark.”

  Bex ignored him and stood facing the window with her shoulders hunched, waiting for her friend Maddy to arrive. Maddy’s uncle had a posh car that he rented out for weddings and he was going to drive them to school, even though it was just a few roads away.

  We all waited in silence. I went to say something but Mum and Dad shot dagger-eyes at me so I kept quiet. At seven o’clock a long, silver car pulled up outside and we all followed Bex to the door. Maddy’s uncle got out and opened a back door and Maddy emerged from beneath a rustle of gold material. Her face dropped when she saw Bex.

  “You’re wearing … jeans?” she said.

  Bex nodded.

  “Yeah, a dress isn’t my style,” she said. She gave Maddy a twirl and a curtsey and they both giggled.

  “You look great, Maddy,” shouted Dad. “Very shiny!” Mum elbowed him in the side.

  Maddy looked down at the gold fabric and her teeth gritted into a smile. I think she was a bit jealous that she hadn’t been brave enough to wear jeans as well. Bex dived into the back of the car and Maddy followed and they both giggled as they rolled around on the squishy leather seats. Maddy’s uncle slammed the car door shut and we waved them off and then went back inside. Dad put his hand on my shoulder.

  “I have to say, Max, you’re handling this whole situation so well. It must really hurt being the only one in the school not going tonight. And … well … you’ve been really grown-up about it all.”

  Mum sighed.

  “I’m sure Maxwell doesn’t want to be reminded about what he’s missing right now, Eddie.”

  Dad turned to face her.

  “Now what? I’m just saying how proud I am of him. Can’t I tell my own son that?”

  Mum folded her arms.

  “By reminding him that he’s the only person not allowed to go? Yeah, that’s great that is… I’m sure that’s made him really happy. Isn’t that right, Maxwell?”

  They both stared at me. Waiting for me to take sides.

  When they realized I wouldn’t, Dad started up again.

  “And you’re blaming him for making Bex change her outfit. That’s not on, you know. That’s not on at all.”

  “I’m not blaming him!” shrieked Mum. I could tell it was about to escalate into a full-on shouting match so I ran to the kitchen.

  “See what you’ve done?” screamed Mum.

  “What I’ve done? Blimey, Amanda. You really take the biscuit sometimes. How about what you’ve done for a change?” Dad yelled back.

  Monster was snoring in his bed so I sat down beside him and stroked his ears. He stirred and looked up at me briefly, then let out a long deep breath and closed his eyes as he smacked his lips together. As I stroked him I tried to block out the arguing from the hallway.

  “Why don’t you just leave, Eddie? If you hate it here so much, why don’t you just pack a bag and go?”

  I held my breath. Dad said something quietly back to her but I couldn’t hear what it was. They were talking in whispers now which was almost worse. At least I knew what they were saying when they shouted. I gave Monster a little kiss on the top of his head, then I got up, walked through the hallway and out of the front door, slamming it hard behind me.

  Jed and Baz were due to start recording at 7.45 p.m. By then everyone would be in the hall and too busy trying to get in front of the cameras to notice me slipping in at the back.

  I walked past Mrs Banks’s garden. The headless flamingo was still there, looking over the pond. Although it couldn’t do much looking without a head. Reg’s curtains were open and I could see the TV flickering inside. For a moment I thought about going in and watching a wildlife documentary with him. He loved watching those. Mum and Dad would have assumed that was where I’d run off to anyway. It would have been the most sensible thing to do: to sit with Reg and watch TV. But when had I ever been sensible? And why watch TV on a screen when you’ve got the real thing in your school hall? Jed and Baz were rig
ht there, right now! It was too good to miss. And besides, I had no intention of being caught.

  When I got to school it was so busy it was easy to go unnoticed. There was a great big TV truck parked at the front, so I stood behind that and watched the TV crew walking around wearing headsets and carrying clipboards. Three girls and four boys from Year Nine emerged from a white stretch-limousine. The girls were wearing long sparkly dresses which they kept getting snagged around their feet and the boys looked like they were wearing their dads’ work suits. A woman with a TV camera on her shoulder began to film them and the girls collapsed into giggles as the boys started pushing and shoving each other. The woman with the camera huffed, then went off to film someone else.

  Mr Howard and Miss Huxley were on the door welcoming everyone inside. Mr Howard was wearing a red bow tie and every time someone gave him a ticket he somehow made the bow tie do a little spin. It wasn’t funny, it was cringy, but everyone laughed because they were in such a good mood. Miss Huxley was laughing more than anyone and he kept grinning at her. I bet they’ll be engaged before long.

  I obviously couldn’t go through the main entrance because I’d be spotted straight away, so I planned to go around to the back of the school and in through the PE changing rooms. The changing rooms have a door which leads out on to the playing fields and the inside door comes out on a long corridor at the side of the hall. From there I could slip in at the back without being seen.

  I waited until everyone had gone inside and there were just a couple of the TV people around by the truck. Spotlights were swirling around the inside of the hall and my stomach flipped over knowing that Jed and Baz were backstage right now, probably getting their TV make-up put on. This was going to be brilliant. I dug my fists into my pockets, put my head down then walked right across the playground. I was nearly around the corner when:

  “Hey! Where you going?”

  I glanced behind me. A man from the production crew wearing headphones was glaring at me.

  I waved to him as if to say, It’s fine. I’m supposed to be here!

  “Can someone see what that kid’s up to?” I heard him say, but then a woman with a clipboard distracted him.