Thought you’d be hyper like me! You scared?
It’s okay, I am too. Can’t stop peeing!
12:07
It’s not that.
12:07
What is it then? You should be buzzing!
12:08
I know.
12:09
My fingers hover over the keys.
Sorry, just something happened.
12:10
What?
12:11
Not sure whether to tell you.
12:11
You’ve got to now
12:11
Okay. The snooker-ball kid died.
12:12
Aaargh! Real sorry.
12:12
Feel bad about being excited for going outside.
12:12
The pencil scribbles on the screen. Henry’s either writing loads or he’s deleted something and started again.
I glance at my phone. Still no message from Amir.
My laptop da-lutes again.
Joe. Sounds bad, but you got to stop thinking about it.
12:14
People die all the time. You and me will.
12:14
Could be today, could be tomorrow.
We both know if they don’t fix us we could be dead real soon.
I know.
Sorry. Bit blunt. Mum said I get it from Dad.
12:15
It’s okay.
12:15
Just saying, we got to go. Could die outside,
could die on our beds . . . crap, Joe,
why are we even talking like this?
We’re going for the best trip ever!
12:16
Sorry. Just think about dying a lot. Don’t you?
12:16
Yeah. But not now!
12:16
I look at the screen. Henry isn’t typing and I don’t know what to write. I wish I hadn’t said anything now. I wish Henry would say something. I’m scared I’ve stopped him wanting to go out, too. I hover my fingers over the keys. The pen starts to scribble then stops.
You’ve got to go! A superhero can’t save
anyone if he stays inside all of his life!
12:17
I giggle. Henry’s right. I have to go. I can’t just sit in here my whole life, dreaming and imagining and worrying.
Switch to screen.
12:18
Why?
12:18
Cos I said so. And I wanna show you something.
12:18
We switch to screen.
‘Taddah!’
I laugh. Henry smiles at me through the glass on his visor and raps his knuckles on top of his helmet.
‘100 per cent polycarbonate. What do you think?’
‘I think you look like you’re stuck in a goldfish bowl.’
‘So I don’t look like a melon?’
‘That too.’
Henry takes his helmet off and blows out his cheeks. ‘It’s really heavy,’ he says. ‘And hot. Have you got yours?’
‘No. Amir’s bringing it tonight.’
Henry leans towards the camera like he’s only just seen me. ‘Holy crap, Joe,’ he says. ‘You’re as white as a ghost.’
‘I know, I’m really nervous.’
‘You’ll be okay, it’s just your anxiety. I’m anxious too.’
‘But your suit is designed by NASA.’
‘So? Yours is designed by a guy who’s mad about aliens. It’s cool.’
‘You think so?’
‘Of course. My suit’s great but yours is going to be full of loads of weird stuff.’
‘I know, but I still can’t stop shaking.’
‘You know what to do.’
I smile as Henry’s face puffs out as he takes a deep breath like he’s going to blow up a balloon.
‘I’ve tried that.’
‘What about the humming?’
‘I tried that too.’
‘It’s okay, I can’t stop shaking either. He picks up his laptop and shakes it. ‘Look, it’s like there’s been an earthquake all day.’
I can’t believe he’s so happy and hyper, but he always is. The only time he gets down is when the Philadelphia Eagles lose, but even then it only takes a few minutes before he’s laughing again.
He puts his laptop down on his bed. ‘I’m serious,’ he says. ‘Been like it all day. But I can’t wait!’
My phone buzzes. Henry asks me who it is. I read out a message from Amir,
‘ “Joe, make sure you rest. Don’t worry when the temperature drops and your room starts to feel like a fridge. It should stop at 11 degrees. If it doesn’t, I’ll bring an ice-pick.” ’
‘Brilliant! He’s brilliant.’ Henry leans over and picks up a folder. ‘All I get is algorithms and data-sheets.’
My phone buzzes again.
‘What’s he saying now?’
‘ “Don’t worry if the instructions don’t go in your head. I carry them in mine.” ’
‘See, Joe. You’ve got nothing to worry about. The guy’s got it all planned.’
‘Do you really think so?’
‘Of course . . . What’re you texting?’
‘I’m asking him where he is.’
I send my message. My phone buzzes straight away.
‘What’s he say?’
‘He says he’s shopping in Sainsbury’s . . . it’s a supermarket.’ I take a deep breath.
Henry taps his finger on the screen.
‘Hey, don’t look so worried. People gotta eat. Maybe he’s making a picnic for your trip. I don’t need one. Gonna be stopping for a burger in McDonald’s.’
‘Do you think they’ll let you?’ I think about what Greg said.
‘Doubt it. Don’t care. All I wanna do is go out. NASA said there’s going to be so many cars it’s going to be like the President’s motorcade.’
‘Can’t wait to see it.’
‘I’ll give you a wave, or one of these.’ He holds up his finger. ‘Haha!’ His eyes flick to the side of his screen then back at me. ‘Hang on, think Brett’s coming.’
‘Shall I go?’
‘No, not yet, he’ll be a while. Getting stuff ready for last minute test and stuff. Then I’ve got to rest. Just means I won’t be able to talk for a while.’
‘So we can’t chat after I’ve been outside?’
‘Not supposed to, but try and stop me!’
I wait for Henry to say something else but he just looks into the camera and for a moment I think the internet has frozen but his hair is moving from the fan.
‘Henry, what’s wrong?’
‘Nothing, just thinkin’.’
‘What about?’
‘It’s stupid – I should be grateful. Just wish we could both go out together. It’d be fun. Both of us. Be like Halloween – me dressed as a spaceman, you dressed like an alien.’
I laugh.
‘Just an ass pain we’re 3500 miles apart.’
‘I know.’
Henry looks towards the door.
‘Couple of minutes, buddy?’ says Brett.
Henry nods.
‘You heard?’
‘Yes.’
Henry blinks, and then leans close to the screen. ‘Hey Joe,’ he whispers. ‘Don’t worry. You’re gonna be okay.’
I nod. ‘I think you will be, too.’
‘Ha,’ he says. ‘We could be in a film.’
I swallow hard. ‘Hey, Henry.’
‘Yeah.’
‘I’ll pretend you’re walking next to me.’
‘Me too, man. Oh, and Joe . . .’
‘What?’
‘Don’t forget to breathe. Don’t want you passing out and missing everything!’
‘And you!’
‘Catch you later!’ he says.
‘Catch you later.’
The screen goes blank.
I lie back on my bed and look at the ceiling. My heart thuds in my chest. I can’t believe it’s going to happen. Me and Henry
are actually going outside.
I watch the screens for a while after Henry’s gone but I can’t concentrate. People move around in a blurry silence and when I watch Thor all I can see are flames and black clouds. I try to rest like Amir told me but it’s hard when all I can think about is me and Henry going outside.
It’s 7 o’clock when I get a new post from Hannah.
BBC Bubble Boy Forum
Sat 28th August, 19.00
Dear Joe, I’ve just finished my holiday homework and now I’m just checking my messages. You haven’t replied. I hope I didn’t say anything wrong. I just wanted to tell you I’m going to my Gran’s house for her birthday. She lives in Wales. She hasn’t got internet and the one on my phone isn’t great so I may not be able to write to you for a while. I told a friend that I was talking to you. She laughed and said, what was the point in talking to someone who could never go out? But I don’t care. You don’t have to go out with someone to be their friend, do you? I hope you are okay.
Hannah.
I write a message back.
Dear Hannah
Sorry I didn’t reply. No, you didn’t upset me. Things have just got really busy. One of the things is sad and the other thing is really exciting and I wish I could tell you what it is but I can’t. I might be able to tell you after.
I’m glad you like Wolverine. I collect the comics and I’ve seen two of the movies. There’s a new one coming out in September. My sister is going to buy it for me on DVD but I’m not sure I can wait until then.
I like what you can see from your window. It sounds really different to mine. Sometimes I dream that I’m on the hospital roof and I can see across all the lakes and parks around London. I dream a lot. I can’t write much more because I have to save my energy. Something exciting is happening but I can’t tell anyone. I think I already said that.
Joe
P.S. Have a nice time at your gran’s.
I lie down on my bed.
I know I need to sleep and save my energy but I’m going outside for the first time in my life; there’s no way I can keep still.
I pretend I’m asleep when a new nurse comes in and checks on me at midnight. She doesn’t talk, she just checks the monitors. She doesn’t seem to notice my heart rate. She doesn’t seem to notice how deeply I’m breathing. All she does is stand at my bed for a minute and then dims the lights.
I don’t remember falling asleep but it’s the air-con clicking that wakes me up. I turn my head. My eyes are sleepy and blurry.
Room temp.: 18C
Air purity: 98%
The air-con clicks again. The numbers change. I blink.
Room temp.: 17C
Room temp.: 16C
It’s starting to go down, just like Amir said it would.
Heart rate: 87
Room temp.:15. . . 14 . . .
It’s like it’s decreasing every time I take a breath.
13 . . .
It’s never been that low; the alarm should be ringing, Amir must have overridden it. I shiver, as if someone has poured ice down my back.
Heart rate: 91
I send Amir a message in my head. I hope you know what you’re doing. I hope you’ve checked everything.
What if he hasn’t? What if the temperature drops and I become tired, my white cells might decrease and my skin will start to wrinkle and fall off like a snake’s. My eyes will turn to crystals, my lungs will turn to lead, my nose will start bleeding and I’ll go unconscious.
I sit down on my bed. I can’t breathe and my heart is beating so hard it’s like it’s trying to burst its way through my ribs. I pick up my phone.
Amir, I don’t think we should do this.
I wait five minutes. He doesn’t reply. My stomach cramps. I run to the bathroom and see myself in the mirror. My face is pale and sweat is running down the side of my face and dripping down my neck.
The air-con clicks again. I don’t want to go. I might be like a polar bear that I saw on TV. He’d been in his cage for so long that when he came out he just walked around in a circle on the spot. I wrap my arm around my stomach. It’s too cold. I’ll freeze. I’m going to die breathing real air. My head goes dizzy. I grab hold of the sink to stop myself from falling over. Stay calm. Take deep breaths. Take deep breaths. It’s not working! I lean over and puke in the toilet.
My phone vibrates on the floor. I grab it.
Don’t worry. The temperature stop at eleven.
I try to reply but I can’t tap the right letters. I shake out my hand and try again.
Amir, I’m scared.
It’s okay, even superheroes are allowed to be scared.
The monitors beep. I stand up and rest against the door. The figures are changing on the monitors.
Room temp: 11C.
Air purity: 98.4%
Heart rate: 96
My phone buzzes again.
Joe, I’m on my way.
11 years, 3 months and 12 days
It’s 2:15 a.m. The room temperature is stuck on eleven. Three workmen are outside digging under the lights. Another man is warming his hands over a big barrel of tar. I wish I could stand there with him because I’m so cold that I can’t stop my jaw from shaking. I wrap my duvet around me but it doesn’t matter how tightly I pull it, I can’t get warm. I step away from the window and look at the screens. It’s been over an hour since Amir said he was coming but he still isn’t here. The service alley is dark and empty. Jim is at the reception desk reading a book under a light. Shadows pass in front of the hospital doors as car lights pass by. Jim glances up but I can’t see what he’s looking at. Amir wouldn’t come through the front door, would he? I switch cameras. A fox limps along the pavement. Jim looks down at his book and starts reading again.
A door clicks open in the transition zone. I walk over to my bed and pull the duvet up to my chin. The door slides back and Amir comes in. He’s got a rucksack over his shoulder and he’s pulling a metal suitcase on wheels.
‘I didn’t think you were coming!’
‘Of course I come.’ He slips the rucksack off his shoulder and puts the suitcase down on my bed. ‘I had to get parked.’ He nods at screen 6. A car is parked in the service alley in the shadows of the building.
‘But I didn’t see you arrive.’
‘I turn out the lights.’
I try to smile but my jaw is still like ice. ‘Amir, I don’t think I can do it.’
‘You be fine,’ he says. ‘Once you put this on.’ He nods at the case.
‘What, everything I need is in there?’
Amir puts his thumbs on the silver catches. ‘I know what you thinking but you be surprised.’
The catches spring up. Amir lifts up the lid.
A blue suit is neatly folded inside.
‘Have you brought the wrong case?’
‘No, this is it.’ He lifts the suit out of the case and holds it up.
‘But I can’t just wear that. It’s too thin . . .’ I look back in the case. ‘And there’s no helmet or oxygen tanks.’
‘Of course not,’ he says. ‘They too big to get past security. This is until I get you outside.’
‘But it’s the same as the one the maintenance man wears.’
‘No, it not. I show you.’ He rolls back the sleeves, ‘Cotton and rubber with malleable titanium. Put it on.’
I swing my legs over the side of my bed and Amir helps my feet into the suit. I try to pull it up but the rubber sticks to my skin. I pull harder but I can’t get it above my knees.
Amir puts his hand in his pocket. ‘Use this. Gymnasts use it on their hands to stop them sticking to the bars.’
He sprinkles white chalk on my legs. I pull the suit up and it seals me in around my waist, then I put my arms in and pull it up over my shoulders.
‘Perfect!’ Amir pulls a zip up my body and the suit seals against my skin. It’s tight like the wet-suits I’ve seen divers wear on TV.
I put my fingers under the collar.
‘I
t’s a bit tight.’
‘It has to be. But you get used to it. Shukra tested it. He sat on the sofa and watched TV for two days. Then I sterilize. Here.’ He hands me rubber socks and rubber gloves. I put them on, look at my hands and flex them.
Amir steps back.
‘You like it?’
I see my reflection in the window. On the outside I look like the maintenance guy, but I feel like Spider-Man underneath.
‘Now all you need is this.’ Amir passes me a metal hoop. ‘It’s how you breathe,’ he says.
‘But it looks like a Frisbee!’
‘It’s a vortex fan with a lithium battery.’ He points at tiny holes in the metal. ‘See these? When we turn it on it powers up a shield of pure air. I show you.’ He connects a rubber lead to an oxygen supply the size of a small fire extinguisher. It looks like it would only last me ten breaths.
Amir sees the worried look on my face. ‘It alright. I got two big bottles and a proper helmet by the car.’
‘Okay.’
Amir takes the hoop and puts it over my head like he’s presenting me with a medal. I look down at it. Amir pulls a tube out of the rucksack and plugs it into the hoop. ‘Ready?’
‘I’m not sure . . .’
He clicks a button. ‘Amir!’ I gulp for breath as cold air rushes out of the oxygen tank and up my nose.
‘Oops, sorry.’ He reaches out. ‘A minor adjustment.’ He pulls the hoop forward, fastens it down with a strap and I can breathe again. ‘That better?’
‘Yes . . . I think so.’
Amir picks up the TV remote.
‘Amir, I thought we were going!’
‘We are. I just check on Jim.’
The screens flicker on. Jim is in reception reading his book. ‘Umm, he still there.’
‘He goes to toilet at 3 o’clock.’
‘That good . . . And Phil?’
The Bubble Boy Page 15