I Am the Wallpaper

by Mark Peter Hughes

In impossibly slow motion, I reached out to break my fall.

  Life is suffering, Zen you die.

  What I remember is that just after I hit the ground and just before I felt the scraping pain in my palms and knees, I imagined I heard a stranger calling my name.

  “… FLOEEEEEY!”

  I pictured a crowd of grinning faces staring at me through their cameras. I screamed and crashed onto the sidewalk. Falling and sliding across the pavement couldn’t have taken more than a second or two, but it felt like that moment went on and on.

  I stayed in a heap for a while, not because I couldn’t get up but because I didn’t want to. When I finally pulled myself off the sidewalk, the world still hadn’t sped back up to normal speed. I held my hands in front of my face. My palms were scraped and bleeding and my leg stung. Rain poured all over me, gushing down my hair and nose and back. And even though I could feel the pain in my hands, it was like I really wasn’t feeling it at all. I was me, but I was also someone outside of me, someone separate, just watching.

  I sat on the sidewalk next to my bike for a long time, letting the rain clean the blood from my skin. Lines of violet, runoff from the dye, washed across the sidewalk. I stared through the woods toward the cove. In a moment of clarity I realized that my crazy new life couldn’t continue like this.

  Everything had to stop.

  Something else had to start.

  All at once I knew exactly what I was going to do.

  chapterfourteen:

  in which i’m so mad that

  i pant like a wild animal

  The rain had stopped. Tish sat on the front step staring at me like I was nuts. I must have looked nuts. I was still dripping wet, out of breath and mad mad mad.

  “Where’s Richard?” I demanded.

  “On the phone,” she said. And then she whispered, “With Billy.”

  I stormed into the house, my feet squelching.

  “Richard! Richard!”

  He was standing by the wall, holding the phone to his ear and wrapping the cord nervously around his finger. One look at me and his face turned even paler than usual.

  “It’s Floey. I’ll have to call you back,” he said. “Yes, I promise. I’ll call right back.” He put the receiver on its hook and shrank against the wall, waiting for me.

  “I know everything,” I said, still catching my breath.

  “Everything?” he said. There wasn’t an ounce of guilt in his voice. He was obviously trying to sound innocent. “What about?”

  “Don’t try that with me, you little monster! The spy club, the Web site—you know exactly what. You better pull the plug right this minute if you know what’s good for you!”

  From his expression, it seemed like he might keep trying to deny it, but after a moment his face changed. He sidestepped toward the hallway.

  Then he ran.

  “You little horror!” I shouted. I chased him. He was down the hall in no time, so I followed him out the back door and into the field behind our house. For a little runt he ran pretty fast. He’d already reached the tall grass when I caught up with him and pulled him down.

  “Aaah! Get off me!”

  “I’m not playing any more stupid games with you.” I spun him around and sat on his chest. “You better put a stop to it. If you think everything’s just going to continue the same until you go home, you’re wrong!”

  He struggled but I weighed too much for him. “I can’t! It’s not me you want, it’s Billy!”

  This wasn’t going to be easy. I didn’t know how to shut the Web site down myself, so he had to do it. But how was I supposed to make him?

  Then I remembered cleaning his room. I suddenly saw myself back in the basement, sorting the laundry, seeing his sheets.

  His sheets.

  He squirmed but I had him pinned. He looked really scared.

  “I know something about you that you don’t want anyone to find out,” I said through my teeth. “Unless you pull down that Web site, I’ll tell everyone. And I mean everyone.”

  He stopped struggling and stared at me. “What do you know?”

  “You mean apart from the fact that you’re a little weasel?” He didn’t reply. I put my face closer to his. Water from my hair dripped onto his forehead. I let him wait.

  “What is it? What?”

  “You’re a bed wetter, aren’t you, Richard?”

  His eyes grew wide. I had him.

  “Dear Future Floey,” I said. “Why are Richard’s sheets wet every other morning? Does his mommy know he still has trouble controlling his bladder at night? Eleven years old. Pretty embarrassing.”

  His lips started to quiver.

  “How about if, instead of putting that in my diary, I just hand it right to Billy? And while I’m at it, how about if I send it to your little friends in Chicago, too? If you have any. There are a lot of e-mail addresses on that message board. Do any of those readers go to your school? I bet somebody does.”

  His eyes grew even wider, and then he started to cry. By then Tish had appeared at the edge of the tall grass. She looked frightened too.

  “Don’t do it!” he begged. “Please!”

  “After what you’ve done to me, why shouldn’t I?”

  “Don’t tell anybody at home! You don’t know what they’ll say. It’d be … awful!”

  “Oh, stop crying, you baby,” I said. “You should have thought of that before you did such terrible things. How could you?” But he kept crying. It went on and on. After a while, I actually felt embarrassed for him. “And how about your mother? What’ll she say when she finds out what you’ve been up to?”

  “Don’t get me in trouble!” he pleaded, still weeping and sniveling. “Please don’t tell!”

  He was so pitiful I had to shake my head. “Pull down the Web site right now and I’ll think about it.”

  “I can’t,” he sobbed. “It’s too important now!”

  “Too important? What are you talking about?”

  “To Billy and those kids, it’s a really huge game. The biggest.”

  “It’s true,” Tish said. “Those guys think the spy club is the coolest extracurricular activity ever invented.”

  “And it’s all Billy’s. You don’t know how furious he’d be if I took it down.”

  “What do you mean Billy’d be furious?” I said. “What do I care what he thinks? And it’s not his site, it’s yours—so turn it off!”

  He thrashed around under me, making the tall, wet grass whip and rustle around our heads. “You don’t get it! Sure, it’s my site. I mean, I put it up, but really it’s always been Billy’s. He’s the one in charge. And now there’s a whole crowd of kids, and he’s the leader. If I pull it down, he won’t let me get away with it. But I never put up your last name or address or anything anybody could use to identify you. Did you even notice that?”

  I peered into his eyes and tried to understand. I still didn’t see why Billy mattered so much to him. He wasn’t making sense.

  All of a sudden, he stopped struggling. “I never wanted it to go this far, I really didn’t. But Billy kept making the whole thing bigger and bigger. He wouldn’t let it drop.”

  “So why are you friends with him?”

  He didn’t answer right away. He looked at Tish and took a couple of long breaths, and then he closed his eyes. “He was the only cool guy I’ve ever been friends with, Floey. At home, kids make fun of me. They give me wedgies and call me names. He didn’t. He made me his buddy.” He opened his eyes. “After a few days, he wasn’t my buddy anymore, but by then it was too late.”

  “That’s no excuse! You should have stood up to him, Richard. What’s the matter with you?”

  He looked at me like I was insane. “I’m scared of him, Floey. I’m terrified. Everybody is.” All of a sudden, fresh tears dribbled into his already wet hair.

  That’s when, believe it or not, I actually started to feel sorry for him. When I looked in his eyes I could tell he wasn’t kidding. The boy was petrified. W
as all this just because Richard was doing the same thing I was doing—trying to be fabulous?

  Tish stood perfectly still in the grass, watching us from a safe distance.

  “All right, calm down,” I said, getting off him. But he still lay there, bawling like a newborn. “Get a grip on yourself, will you? Let’s think this through. What if I can come up with a way for us to put a stop to this crazy stuff, all of it, and get even with Billy, too—all without him knowing you had anything to do with it. Will you help me?”

  What came out of Richard’s mouth next was only a quiet moan, a whimper, barely loud enough to hear. But then he tried again. “He’ll beat me up. You have no idea how mean he can get.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “But you’ll be going home soon. If I tell your friends in Chicago about your little problem, what will happen when you get home?”

  Richard sighed. “If I help, Billy won’t know and you won’t tell my mom about this and you won’t tell anybody about the … you know, the bed?”

  “All right. If you’ll help me, I won’t tell. But it’ll cost you.”

  He took another long breath and closed his eyes.

  Slowly, the worried look on Tish’s face changed to a smile.

  chapterfifteen:

  in which

  i am exposed

  At exactly 11:20 that night, I slipped out of bed and nudged Tish to get up. She was still awake. She had already picked out her darkest clothes and was wearing them in bed. A moment later we climbed out the window and onto the grass. Richard was leaning against the house waiting for us, just as I’d told him to. He looked worried.

  “Did you bring the firecrackers?” I whispered.

  He nodded. He handed me a little box.

  In the glow from Richard’s flashlight, Tish looked jittery and excited. “Do you have the camera?” she whispered louder than I thought was safe.

  I nodded and led them farther away from the house and into the field.

  That afternoon Gary had let me borrow one of his digital camcorders and some other equipment. But Tish and I had never used a camcorder, so we weren’t sure how it worked. Since Gary had given me a couple of disks, we decided to use one of them for practice. We practiced on Frank Sinatra. As soon as the camera was on him, he hopped down from the bookshelf to the floor. I don’t think he liked to be recorded. We followed him as he stalked through the kitchen and into the bathroom. He went straight to his litter box and did a big turd. I think he did it on purpose.

  Just to spite him, I kept filming anyway.

  Now, in the darkness of my yard, I pulled Gary’s camcorder from my backpack and handed it to Tish. “And you’re sure everybody’s coming?”

  “Yes,” Richard said anxiously. “They’ll all be there.”

  “Well, you’d better go meet them, then. Go on, hurry. You don’t want anybody to suspect anything, do you?”

  He gave me one last frightened look and set off across the lawn and down the street. We waited five minutes before following him, staying in the shadows as much as possible.

  My plan was simple: we’d lure Billy and all his friends together and then we’d ambush them—all on camera. Since Richard would be with them the whole time, they’d have no idea he’d helped us.

  That afternoon I’d made him publish a new entry on the Web site. It was short:

  Monday, July 21, 2:00 p.m.

  Dear Floey of Tomorrow,

  I feel wild and free and especially at one with the universe today. I want to do something extraordinary, something I’ve never done before. At midnight, under the summer moon over Otis Cove, I’ll dance naked like my ancient ancestors. Liberated from the material demands of clothing, my inner primitive spirit will connect openly with the spirits of the mystical future. I will howl at the moon and swim in the water, as naked as the day I was born, as free as I was meant to be.

  I figured that ought to do the trick.

  “Keep your head down,” I said, pulling Tish out of the light as two boys on bicycles came up the street. We stood still and let them pass. I couldn’t hear what they whispered, but they were laughing and heading toward the cove.

  Even with the slowdown, Tish and I made pretty good time. When we reached the path we put away our flashlights and started into the trees. I squeezed the button to light up my watch. It was 11:53.

  In the woods we had to keep very quiet. Earlier that day I’d shown Richard the secret beach (after tonight, it wouldn’t be so secret anymore) and pointed out exactly where I wanted him to bring the little creeps. It had been days since I’d seen a car in the driveway of the cottage, so I was confident that the beach would be all mine tonight. I’d told Richard to lead the spy club boys from the opposite direction, but there was still a chance Tish and I might run into one of them. Inside the cover of the trees it was especially dark. Without our flashlights, we had to move slowly and wave our hands in front of us so we wouldn’t walk into a tree or a branch.

  We crept through the tall grass toward the little clearing. Well before we came to the place where Wen, Azra and I had sat on the Fourth of July, we stopped and crouched down.

  I checked my watch again: 11:57.

  The cove looked beautiful. Moonlight glittered across the water and reflected on the boats moored on the other side. It was a much brighter night than the last time I had been here, and when I raised my head a little I could see into the clearing pretty well. Other than the gentle sounds of the waves and the crickets, everything was quiet. I tried to settle in, but I wasn’t very comfortable crouching. A long moment passed, and I still didn’t hear anything or anybody. I worried that something was wrong.

  Tish put her mouth to my ear. “Where is everyone?”

  “I don’t know,” I whispered back.

  We crouched for another couple of minutes, careful not to move or make a sound. With only a minute to go until midnight, I was worried that my plan had gone wrong, that the boys knew I knew about them and had stayed home. But just then, a few yards ahead of us and to our left, I heard somebody whisper. After that, ahead of us but more to our right, somebody else said “Shhh!” The whispering stopped, but the grass rustled a little. That made me feel better. At least I knew Tish and I weren’t the only people hiding in the reeds. I was glad we’d been careful to sit far enough back from where we’d told Richard to bring the spy club.

  I checked my watch again. Midnight.

  “Where is she?” somebody said.

  “Aww, she’s not going to show,” whispered somebody else.

  We’d been squatting as still as we could. My knees hurt. I don’t know whether it was the heat or that I was so nervous, but I was sweating pretty hard. Waiting had been excruciating.

  Tish put her mouth to my ear again. “Ready?”

  I nodded and reached into my pocket.

  But then, unexpectedly, I heard the sound of somebody humming. It was a woman, and it was coming from the direction of the old cottage. What was this? How could anyone have been staying there? There’d been no lights and no car in the driveway. This would ruin everything!

  Tish elbowed me.

  I froze, a lighter and Richard’s box of firecrackers ready in my hands.

  The whispering that had been building in our little area behind the clearing suddenly went silent. Carefully, I peered over the grass to see who was coming. The cottage porch light was on now. In silhouette, I could also make out the tops of a few heads that had risen just high enough to see over the reeds. Judging by the number of shadowy figures peering from the grass, it seemed like there might be more kids hiding with us than I’d imagined there would be. Were there ten, twelve? I couldn’t be sure.

  My heart was beating even faster now. I wasn’t sure what to do. I put the firecrackers back in my pocket.

  The humming was high and pretty, and it was directly in front of us now. The woman had a flashlight, and the glow made the individual reeds stand out tall and dark. The wall of grass rustled and finally opened up. The silhouetted heads dropp
ed back out of sight. The lady who stepped out looked like she was carrying a towel. Who was she? In the darkness, I wondered if the monsters thought they were looking at me.

  And then I recognized the short hair. That’s when I realized with sudden horror who had come back to the beach.

  The Old Naked People.

  Immediately behind the woman, two other people stepped into view: first the skinny lady with the long white hair, and behind her the bald man with the big gut. By now it must have been pretty obvious to the boys that none of these people was me because the flashlight had given us a quick glimpse of them.

  And just like the other night, they were, as Lillian would say, au naturel. Entirely and utterly buck.

  I stopped breathing. How could this have happened? Had they parked somewhere new, maybe on the far side of the house? Whatever it was, I’d made a terrible mistake. I’d felt bad enough stumbling onto them the first time, but now I’d brought an even bigger audience. This was a nightmare!

  Somebody to my right gasped. The nearby grass moved just a little. But the old people didn’t seem to notice. “Yes, it is a little better down here,” the long-haired lady said. “Not so oppressive.”

  “Well, I’m sure as hell not waiting for anybody,” the old man said. He moved past them and ran into the cool water. The women followed him, first wading in and then sitting down in the water up to their necks.

  I wondered vaguely where the other man was. The bear. Not that it really mattered. So far my plan had completely backfired, and there was only one sensible thing to do, which is what Tish suggested right then:

  “Oh my God, Floey,” she said, wide-eyed, yanking at my arm. “We better run!”

  And I almost did, too. I almost bolted back into the woods, hoping to fade unnoticed into the scenery like so many times before. But something held me back. A moment later I realized what it was: anger. I couldn’t let it end like this. The spy club boys were supposed to be the ones running away, not me. Of course, if I could have somehow changed things so that the Old Naked People weren’t involved, I certainly would have. But now it was too late. Their late-night skinny-dipping ritual, if that was what it was, had already been violated. The least I could do was let them know.