“Goldilocks?”
“Too scary.”
“The bears only growl at her,” says Ma.
“Still.”
“Princess Diana?”
“Should have worn her seat belt.”
“See, you know them all.” Ma puffs her breath. “Hang on, there’s one about a mermaid . . .”
“The Little Mermaid.”
“No, a different one. This mermaid is sitting on the rocks one evening, combing her hair, when a fisherman creeps up and catches her in his net.”
“To fry her for his dinner?”
“No, no, he brings her home to his cottage and she has to marry him,” says Ma. “He takes away her magic comb so she can’t ever go back into the sea. So after a while the mermaid has a baby—”
“—called JackerJack,” I tell her.
“That’s right. But whenever the fisherman’s out fishing she looks around the cottage, and one day she finds where he’s hidden her comb—”
“Ha ha.”
“And she runs away to the rocks, and slips down into the sea.”
“No.”
Ma looks at me close. “You don’t like this story?”
“She shouldn’t be gone.”
“It’s OK.” She takes the tear out of my eye with her finger. “I forgot to say, of course she takes her baby, JackerJack, with her, he’s all knotted up in her hair. And when the fisherman comes back, the cottage is empty, and he never sees them again.”
“Does he drown?”
“The fisherman?”
“No, JackerJack, under the water.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” says Ma, “he’s half merman, remember? He can breathe air or water, whichever.” She goes to look at Watch, it’s 08:27.
I’m lying in Wardrobe for ages, but I don’t get sleepy. We do songs and prayers. “Just one nursery rhyme,” I say, “please?” I pick “The House That Jack Built” because it’s the longest.
Ma’s voice is yawny. “ ‘This is the man all tattered and torn—’ ”
“ ‘That kissed the maiden all forlorn—’ ”
“ ‘That milked the cow with the crumpled horn—’ ”
I steal a few lines in a hurry. “ ‘That tossed the dog that worried the cat that killed the rat that—’ ”
Beep beep.
I shut my mouth tight.
The first thing Old Nick says I don’t hear.
“Mmm, sorry about that,” says Ma, “we had curry. I was wondering, actually, if there was any chance—” Her voice is all high. “If it might be possible sometime to put in an extractor fan or something?”
He doesn’t say anything. I think they’re sitting on Bed.
“Just a little one,” she says.
“Huh, there’s an idea,” says Old Nick. “Let’s start all the neighbors wondering why I’m cooking up something spicy in my workshop.”
I think that’s sarcasm again.
“Oh. Sorry,” says Ma, “I didn’t think—”
“Why don’t I stick a flashing neon arrow on the roof while I’m at it?”
I wonder how an arrow flashes.
“I’m really sorry,” says Ma, “I didn’t realize that the smell, that it, that a fan would—”
“I don’t think you appreciate how good you’ve got it here,” says Old Nick. “Do you?”
Ma doesn’t say anything.
“Aboveground, natural light, central air, it’s a cut above some places, I can tell you. Fresh fruit, toiletries, what have you, click your fingers and it’s there. Plenty girls would thank their lucky stars for a setup like this, safe as houses. Specially with the kid—”
Is that me?
“No drunk drivers to worry about,” he says, “drug pushers, perverts . . .”
Ma butts in very fast. “I shouldn’t have asked for a fan, it was dumb of me, everything’s fine.”
“OK, then.”
Nobody says anything for a little bit.
I count my teeth, I keep getting it wrong, nineteen then twenty then nineteen again. I bite my tongue till it hurts.
“Of course there’s wear and tear, that’s par for the course.” His voice is moved, I think he’s over near Bath now. “This seam’s buckling, I’ll have to sand and reseal. And see here, the underlayment’s showing through.”
“We are careful,” says Ma, very quietly.
“Not careful enough. Cork’s not meant for high traffic, I was planning on one sedentary user.”
“Are you coming to bed?” asks Ma in that funny high voice.
“Let me get my shoes off.” There’s a sort of grunt, I hear something drop on Floor. “You’re the one hassling me about renovations before I’m here two minutes . . .”
Lamp goes out.
Old Nick squeaks Bed, I count to ninety-seven then I think I missed one so I lose count.
I stay awake listening even when there’s nothing to hear.
• • •
On Sunday we’re having bagels for dinner, very chewy, with jelly and peanut butter as well. Ma takes her bagel out of her mouth and there’s a pointy thing stuck in it. “At last,” she says.
I pick it up, it’s all yellowy with dark brown bits. “Bad tooth?”
Ma nods. She’s feeling in the back of her mouth.
That’s so weird. “We could stick him back in, with flour glue, maybe.”
She shakes her head, grinning. “I’m glad it’s out, now it can’t hurt anymore.”
He was part of her a minute ago but now he’s not. Just a thing. “Hey, you know what, if you put him under your pillow a fairy will come in the night invisibly and turn him into money.”
“Not in here, sorry,” says Ma.
“Why not?”
“The tooth fairy doesn’t know about Room.” Her eyes are looking through the walls.
Outside has everything. Whenever I think of a thing now like skis or fireworks or islands or elevators or yo-yos, I have to remember they’re real, they’re actually happening in Outside all together. It makes my head tired. And people too, firefighters teachers burglars babies saints soccer players and all sorts, they’re all really in Outside. I’m not there, though, me and Ma, we’re the only ones not there. Are we still real?
After dinner Ma tells me Hansel and Gretel and How the Berlin Wall Fell Down and Rumpelstiltskin. I like when the queen has to guess the little man’s name or else he’ll take her baby away. “Are stories true?”
“Which ones?”
“The mermaid mother and Hansel and Gretel and all them.”
“Well,” says Ma, “not literally.”
“What’s—”
“They’re magic, they’re not about real people walking around today.”
“So they’re fake?”
“No, no. Stories are a different kind of true.”
My face is all scrunched up from trying to understand. “Is the Berlin Wall true?”
“Well, there was a wall, but it’s not there anymore.”
I’m so tired I’m going to rip in two like Rumpelstiltskin did at the end.
“Night-night,” says Ma, shutting the doors of Wardrobe, “sleep tight, don’t let the bugs bite.”
• • •
I didn’t think I was switched off but then Old Nick’s here all loud.
“But vitamins—” Ma is saying.
“Highway robbery.”
“You want us getting sick?”
“It’s a giant rip-off,” says Old Nick. “I saw this exposé one time, they all end up in the toilet.”
Who ends up in Toilet?
“It’s just that, if we had a better diet—”
“Oh, here we go. Whine, whine, whine . . .” I can see him through the slats, he’s sitting on the edge of Bath.
Ma’s voice gets mad. “I bet we’re cheaper to keep than a dog. We don’t even need shoes.”
“You have no idea about the world of today. I mean, where do you think the money’s going to keep coming from?”
Nobody says anything. Then Ma.
“Six months.” His arms are folded, they’re huge. “Six months I’ve been laid off, and have you had to worry your pretty little head?”
I can see Ma too, through the slats, she’s nearly beside him. “What happened?”
“Like it matters.”
“Are you looking for another job?”
They stare at each other.
“Are you in debt?” she asks. “How’re you going to—?”
“Shut your mouth.”
I don’t mean to but I’m so scared he’s going to hurt her again the sound just bursts out of my head.
Old Nick’s looking right at me, he takes a step and another and another and he knocks on the slats. I see his hand shadow. “Hey in there.”
He’s talking to me. My chest’s going clang clang. I hug my knees and press my teeth together. I want to get under Blanket but I can’t, I can’t do anything.
“He’s asleep.” That’s Ma.
“She keep you in the closet all day as well as all night?”
The you is me. I wait for Ma to say no, but she doesn’t.
“Doesn’t seem natural.” I can see in his eyes, they’re all pale. Can he see me, am I turning to stone? What if he opens the door? I think I might—
“I figure there must be something wrong,” he’s saying to Ma, “you’ve never let me get a good look since the day he was born. Poor little freak’s got two heads or something?”
Why he said that? I nearly want to put my one head out of Wardrobe, just to show him.
Ma’s there in front of the slats, I can see the knobs of her shoulder blades through her T-shirt. “He’s just shy.”
“He’s got no reason to be shy of me,” says Old Nick. “Never laid a hand on him.”
Why would he laid his hand on me?
“Bought him that fancy jeep, didn’t I? I know boys, I was one once. C’mon, Jack—”
He said my name.
“C’mon out and get your lollipop.”
A lollipop!
“Let’s just go to bed.” Ma’s voice is strange.
Old Nick does a kind of laugh. “I know what you need, missy.”
What Ma needs? Is it something on the list?
“Come on,” she says again.
“Didn’t your mother ever teach you manners?”
Lamp goes out.
But Ma doesn’t have a mother.
Bed’s loud, that’s him getting in.
I put Blanket over my head and press my ears so not to hear. I don’t want to count the creaks but I do.
• • •
When I wake up I’m still in Wardrobe and it’s totally dark.
I wonder if Old Nick is still here. And the lollipop?
The rule is, stay in Wardrobe till Ma comes for me.
I wonder what color the lollipop is. Are there colors in the dark?
I try to switch off again but I’m all on.
I could put my head out just to—
I push open the doors, real slow and quiet. All I can hear is the hum of Refrigerator. I stand up, I go one step, two step, three. I stub my toe on something owwwwwww. I pick it up and it’s a shoe, a giant shoe. I’m looking at Bed, there he is, Old Nick, his face is made of rock I think. I put my finger out, not to touch it, just nearly.
His eyes flash all white. I jump back, I drop the shoe. I think he might shout but he’s grinning with big shiny teeth, he says, “Hey, sonny.”
I don’t know what that—
Then Ma is louder than I ever heard her even doing Scream. “Get away, get away from him!”
I race back to Wardrobe, I bang my head, arghhhhh, she keeps screeching, “Get away from him.”
“Shut up,” Old Nick is saying, “shut up.” He calls her words I can’t hear through the screaming. Then her voice gets blurry. “Stop that noise,” he’s saying.
Ma is going mmmmmmm instead of words. I hold my head where it banged, I wrap it up in my two hands.
“You’re a basket case, you know that?”
“I can be quiet,” she says, she’s nearly whispering, I hear her breath all scratchy. “You know how quiet I can be, so long as you leave him alone. It’s all I’ve ever asked.”
Old Nick snorts. “You ask for stuff every time I open the door.”
“It’s all for Jack.”
“Yeah, well, don’t forget where you got him.”
I’m listening very hard but Ma doesn’t say anything.
Sounds. Him getting his clothes? His shoes, I think he’s doing on his shoes.
I don’t sleep after he’s gone. I’m on all the night in Wardrobe. I wait hundreds of hours but Ma doesn’t come for me.
• • •
I’m looking up at Roof when suddenly it lifts off and the sky rushes in and the rockets and the cows and the trees are crashing down on my head—
No, I’m in Bed, Skylight’s starting to drip down light, it must be morning.
“Just a bad dream,” says Ma, stroking my cheek.
I have some but not much, the yummy left.
Then I remember, and I wriggle up in Bed to check her for new marks on her but I don’t see any. “I’m sorry I came out of Wardrobe in the night.”
“I know,” she says.
Is that the same as forgiving? I’m remembering more. “What’s a little freak?”
“Oh, Jack.”
“Why he said something’s wrong with me?”
Ma groans. “There’s not a thing wrong with you, you’re right all the way through.” She kisses my nose.
“But why he said it?”
“He’s just trying to drive me crazy.”
“Why he’s—?”
“You know how you like to play with cars and balloons and stuff? Well, he likes to play with my head.” She taps it.
I don’t know to play with heads. “Is laid off like lying down?”
“No, it means he lost his job,” says Ma.
I thought only things could get lost, like one of our pins from the six. Everything must be different in Outside. “Why he said don’t forget where you got me?”
“Oh, give it a rest for one minute, will you?”
I’m counting on mute, one hippopotamus two hippopotamus, all the sixty seconds the questions are bouncing up and down in my head.
Ma is filling a glass of milk for her, she doesn’t do one for me. She stares into Refrigerator, the light’s not coming on, that’s weird. She shuts the door again.
The minute’s up. “Why he said don’t forget where you got me? Wasn’t it Heaven?”
Ma is clicking Lamp but he won’t wake up either. “He meant—who you belong to.”
“I belong to you.”
She gives me a small grin.
“Is Lamp’s bulb used up?”
“I don’t think that’s it.” She shivers, she goes over to look at Thermostat.
“Why he told you not to forget?”
“Well actually, he’s got it all wrong, he thinks you belong to him.”
Ha! “He’s a numbskull.”
Ma’s staring at Thermostat. “Power cut.”
“What’s that?”
“There’s no power in anything just now.”
It’s a strange kind of day.
We have our cereal and brush teeth and get dressed and water Plant. We try and fill Bath but after the first bit the water comes out all icy so we just wash with cloths. It gets brighter through Skylight only not very. TV doesn’t work too, I miss my friends. I pretend they’re coming on the screen, I pat them with my fingers. Ma says let’s put on another shirt and pants each to be warm, even two socks each foot. We run Track for miles and miles and miles to warm us up, then Ma lets me take off the outside socks because my toes are all squished. “My ears hurt,” I tell her.
Her eyebrows go up.
“It’s too quiet in them.”
“Ah, that’s because we’re not hearing all the little sounds we’re used to, like the heat coming on or the refrigerator hum.”
I play with Bad Tooth, I hide him in different places like under Dresser and in the rice and behind Dish Soap. I try and forget where he is, then I’m all surprised. Ma’s chopping all the green beans from Freezer, why is she chopping so many?
That’s when I remember the one good bit of last night. “Oh, Ma, the lollipop.”
She keeps chopping. “It’s in the trash.”
Why he left it there? I run over, I step on the pedal and the lid goes ping but I don’t see the lollipop. I’m feeling around the orange peels and rice and stew and plastic.
Ma takes me by the shoulders. “Leave it.”
“It’s my candy for Sunday treat,” I tell her.
“It’s garbage.”
“No it’s not.”
“It cost him maybe fifty cents. He’s laughing at you.”
“I never had a lollipop.” I pull out of her hands.
Nothing can hot on Stove because the power’s cut. So lunch is slippery freezy green beans which are even nastier than green beans cooked. We have to eat them up because otherwise they’ll melt and rot. I wouldn’t mind that but it’s waste.
“Would you like The Runaway Bunny?” Ma asks when we’ve washed up in all cold.
I shake my head. “When the power’s getting uncut?”
“I don’t know, I’m sorry.”
We get into Bed to warm up. Ma pulls up all her clothes and I have lots, the left then the right.
“What if Room gets colder and colderer?”
“Oh, it won’t. It’s April in three days,” she says, spooning me. “It can’t be that cold out.”
We snooze, but me only a bit. I wait till Ma’s all heavy, then I wriggle out and go look in Trash again.
I find the lollipop nearly in the bottom, it’s a red ball shape. I wash my arms and my lollipop too because there’s yucky stew on it. I get the plastic right off and I suck it and suck it, it’s the sweetest thing I ever had. I wonder if this is what Outside tastes like.
If I ran away I’d become a chair and Ma wouldn’t know which one. Or I’d make myself invisible and stick to Skylight and she’d look right through me. Or a tiny speck of dust and go up her nose and she’d sneeze me right out.
Her eyes are open.
I put the lollipop behind my back.
She shuts them again.
I keep sucking for hours even though I feel a bit sick. Then it’s only a stick and I put it in Trash.
When Ma gets up she doesn’t say about the lollipop, maybe she was still asleep with her eyes open. She tries Lamp again but he stays off. She says she’ll leave him switched on so we’ll know the minute the power cut is over.
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