The Bubble Wrap Boy

by Phil Earle

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” I added quickly, hearing that chesty laugh of hers rumble up from her boots.

  I rambled on less self-consciously after that. About how the news was starting to make sense, in terms of how Mom overprotected me, at least.

  “I wish I’d been there, you know. On the day it happened. I know that’s a stupid thing to say, but it’s true, because if someone else had seen the accident, then they could have told Mom right away that it wasn’t her fault, just freak bad luck. Dad says the problem now is that she’s played it over in her head for way too long, and every time she does, her part in it gets worse. Like she’s this killer or something. Crazy, I know.”

  Dora moaned, long and mournful, an especially wild tic ripping through the entire left side of her body.

  “Don’t get upset. I’m sure you’ve tried to tell her enough times. How many arguments has it caused, huh? Because if you’re anything like Mom, I’m sure you’re happy to stand your ground.”

  Another laugh, plus a burning stare, the clearest indication yet that there was a torrent of words that her broken body wouldn’t let her deliver.

  “It’s all right, Aunt Dor,” I added, squeezing her hand as gently as I could. “You don’t have to explain. I understand. I do.”

  I didn’t know what to say after that: how to move the conversation forward, or whether I even should. I worried I was putting unnecessary strain on her. Dad had been pretty straight about just how severe her epilepsy was.

  Instead, we sat quietly, saying nothing, her chair groaning occasionally as she wriggled. It wasn’t an awkward silence, though. I didn’t feel the need to fill it. I watched her, the way her head was so painfully tilted, the way her eyes strained skyward, the joy I thought I could see in them as birds came and went from the oak trees around her. She didn’t seem to be in pain, and if she was, then she must have been an expert in either living with it or ignoring it.

  I followed her gaze, trying to see what she saw, and after a few minutes of staring into the swaying branches I felt a calm that was alien to me. So overwhelming that it threatened to have me dozing backward off my board. Only a voice cutting clean through the silence had me hopping, shocked, back to my feet.

  “Lovely spot, isn’t it? Perfect for a nap.”

  I had no idea what was going on. For a split second I thought it was Dora: that she’d duped me all along. But as I pulled my blurry gaze back toward her I saw a guy, the same one I’d seen leaving, leaning on the back of Dora’s wheelchair. He smiled easily as he draped a cardigan around her shoulders.

  What should I say? And how should I say it without looking stupidly guilty?

  “Don’t worry.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Ten minutes out here on a day like this? I’d be taking a nap too.”

  “I wasn’t sleeping,” I babbled, like this was the most important thing. “I was just—”

  “I know, resting your eyes, right? Dora does the same most days, apparently. That right, my friend?” He casually wiped a trail of spit from her mouth. “Even when she knows there’s chores to be done. Those potatoes don’t peel themselves, you know? Tom.” He smiled, offering me his hand. “Agency staff. Filling in while people are on vacation.”

  I said nothing. Just gripped his fingers limply and shook.

  “This is the part when…?”

  “Huh?” I answered, breaking contact.

  “You know, when you answer. Name, rank, serial number? No pressure, but I think that’s how it works.”

  “Oh, right, yeah. Charlie.” How stupid. I could have told him any name other than my own.

  “So how do you know Dora? Family? Boyfriend?” He prodded her shoulder mockingly. “You dark horse, you.”

  “Ha, no, I think I’m a little old for her. I’m just here on…” Think, Charlie, think. “My, um, uncle lives here. Up on the top floor there.” I pointed at the house, like I knew what I was talking about. I could’ve been pointing at the bathrooms for all I knew.

  “Oh, right.” He sounded convinced, but he didn’t look it.

  “Yeah, I’ve been visiting for a long time. So I kind of know Dora a little, you know….”

  “You can tell,” he said, still staring a bit too intensely. “You look like you’ve known each other for years.”

  There was a pause. I fought the urge to run.

  “Well, carry on,” he said eventually. “There haven’t been a lot of laughs for you lately, have there, Dora? You need someone like Charlie here. Someone who can take you away from this place. Make you think about something new, right?”

  He looked at me hopefully. “You can do that, can’t you, Charlie?”

  I nodded, eyes widening as his words took root in my brain.

  I’d come here for answers, but I left with something very different. Something far more exciting.

  I left with a plan.

  “That has to be one of the lamest, craziest ideas I’ve ever heard coming out of your mouth.”

  I took a deep breath to stop my ego from deflating. It was always a risk asking Sinus for feedback.

  “Do you seriously think you can bust your aunt out of the hospital and get away with it? What do you think the nurses will do when they spot you throwing her over your shoulder? Because I’ll tell you what, Charlie, I don’t think they’ll come running with a ladder to help you. More likely a straitjacket. And NOT for her either!”

  “She’s sick, not dead. Plus they don’t use straitjackets and you know it.” I tried not to take my frustration out on him, but this idea was all I had. And in my own head I’d convinced myself it was absolutely perfect. Because by pulling it off, not only did I show Mom that I knew her secret and that I was cool with it, but I also made her realize that my secret couldn’t hurt me either. I mean, think about it. It was win-win-win.

  On the day of Skatefest, all I had to do, with the help of Sinus, was borrow Dora from Oakview, just for a couple of hours. Enough time to get her to the park and into the middle of the crowd, which I knew would be huge.

  If I could do that and draw Mom to the park too, then I could confront her, show her that I knew everything.

  “You have met your mom, haven’t you?” Sinus added, another verbal pin stabbing mercilessly into my soul. “You do remember that she is, how can I put this…oh yeah, that’s it. A complete control freak. Do you really think she’ll keep a lid on her temper if you pull a fast one in front of everyone she knows?”

  “That’s just it, though, Sinus. Dad says she’s more worried about losing face than anything else. She’ll hate it, of course, but you’ve seen Dora—it’s not like she’s got three heads or anything. As soon as people meet her, they’ll accept her. More than that, they’ll love her. And maybe Mom will forgive me once she sees that.”

  “What, enough to let you march straight onto the top of the ramp? Dude, seriously, you need to lie down. Your idea’s losing credibility every time your mouth moves.”

  “And that’s it?” I was angry now. “That’s your official response? The gospel according to Sinus? Well, if you don’t want to help me, on the one occasion that I REALLY need it? Then that’s up to you. But I’m doing it anyway.”

  He looked at me like I was crazy, his face morphing into the picture of innocence. “Who said anything about not helping? Your plan might just need some finessing. And I do believe I can smooth it out in no time.”

  And that was that. The green light was lit, along with a raging fear that spread from my high-tops to my forehead.

  Sinus was true to his word. Annoyingly. Though I knew that by helping me he was ultimately helping himself too. He was picturing himself with a horde of women on each arm.

  But for that to happen, and for them to see past his nostrils to the caring soul hidden (deep) within, we were talking about a plan of epic proportions.

  The plot developed, though not in terms of busting Dora out of Oakview. I could only presume he was thinking about this while he gave the school the most radical face-lift imag
inable. Seriously, it was enough to take your breath away.

  I don’t know how he did it, both in terms of time and the amount of spray paint he must’ve bought, but over the next two and a half weeks he turned every view into a bubble wrap rainbow. His designs were in your face, teasing your eyeballs at every turn. Walls, fences, goalposts: there wasn’t a single space Sinus wouldn’t dare to tag. And he didn’t stop there. He went digital too. Every time a teacher turned on a whiteboard, there was a BWB shining out of it, he regularly hijacked information on the cafeteria’s TV screen, and somehow, best of all, he managed to feed his images into a presentation given by Mr. Peach to the whole school.

  “VANDALISM!” the old man yelled. It was quickly becoming his buzzword. Once more and he’d end up a game-show host instead of a feeble principal.

  “Some people, the ignorant among us, would dare to call this art, to suggest that there is merit to it, when all it does is reduce our buildings, and us in turn, to the lowest of the low. So I’m demanding that you, as responsible members of this school, I’m demanding that you be vigilant and deliver him or her to me to be dealt with.”

  And with that, he tried to return to his PowerPoint slides, but every time he clicked, all that appeared was another gleaming, sleek, jaw-dropping design, each one more dazzling than the last, until, as Peach flicked his controller manically, the roof of the auditorium threatened to blow clean off with excitement.

  I’d never heard anything like it. Never in an assembly, never within the school building, not even when a student teacher once inadvertently wore a see-through top during a French exam.

  There was applause and cheers, and there were gasps so loud that toward the end I thought we were about to see a standing ovation. And through the noise and the adulation Sinus and I sat dumbfounded. Well, I did. Sinus wore nothing but his usual smug grin, and his head nodded gently, soaking up every bit of it.

  The schoolyard buzzed for the rest of the day. Groups assembled in front of the various designs, analyzing them, poring over clues about who might have been responsible, what the BWB could possibly mean. Nobody came close, though it made us grin to watch the pencils scribbling on pads, treating it like it was high-level sudoku.

  As the final bell rang, I felt an unusual sensation wash over me. A weird sadness that the day was over. If this was how it was going to be once Skatefest arrived and our plan paid off, then I had to get practicing. I couldn’t afford to mess this up, not with this kind of momentum. It simply wasn’t an option.

  For the next three weeks I burned the candle at both ends.

  In fact, I spent most of the time twirling it like a flaming baton—without, might I add smugly, ever singeing my fingers.

  Although I came close a bunch of times.

  There was a lot to do, but no point complaining about it. My eyes never left the gleaming prizes on offer: revenge, glory, girls for Sinus, and most importantly, the chance to cut through the lies that surrounded my family. That alone was worth all the jeopardy.

  I attacked skating with venom. There was no point compounding what everyone already thought of me by falling on my butt at Skatefest. Do that and I might as well not turn up. No, I needed to be sharper than I’d ever been, which meant grabbing every minute, every second, and nailing my technique.

  So that’s what I did, regardless of the risks of being spotted by Mom in the process. I minimized the chances as best I could, wearing clothes she wouldn’t recognize: baggy jeans, plus a hoodie belonging to Sinus and a fur-lined hat with earflaps that Dad occasionally wore in the winter. I might have been sweating like a lunatic in the sun, but it was worth it if it bought me the anonymity I craved.

  I rode the board all over town, knowing I could only hit the ramp after dark, and even then I was dependent on Dad’s clandestine help. When I knew Mom was at the hospital, I worked on stamina and balance, weaving in and out of parked cars, zipping around baby carriages, lines at the bus stop, anything that challenged me to stay on the board.

  I built up endurance over greater distances too, when Mom was manning the phone at the takeout and I was out on deliveries. The deliveries gave me the freedom to ride across town to see Dora at Oakview, and I’d sit with her, building up her trust, so that when it came to it, and we did our jailbreak on the big day, she wouldn’t freak out. That was something I couldn’t afford, not on any account.

  The visits became a highlight for me, the moments when I found her waiting on the lawn. I had to be careful: sometimes I only grabbed a minute before spotting a caregiver returning. But the important thing was that Dora knew I was there, wanting to be part of her life.

  I started feeling more confident in her company. The paranoia that I might break her started to disappear: I started to believe, truly, that she was getting something out of me being there.

  “We have fun, don’t we, Aunt Dor?” I asked as I finished another tale of Sinus’s complete lack of tact. She rocked her chair with such joyful force that I had no doubt what the answer was. Made me look forward to introducing them properly; she’d only glimpsed Sinus once as he’d dived into her closet.

  “We should have a day out, you know, me and you. Somewhere other than here. What do you think?”

  She looked at me intently.

  “Nowhere far. You wouldn’t miss your lunch or anything. I just thought you might want to watch me on this thing.”

  Her eyes went to the board. “I’m not as quick on these wheels as you are on yours, but I’m up for a race if you are.”

  She laughed again, and I felt a charge of positivity fizz around my body, reinforcing everything I was trying to do.

  If Dora was just as up for it as I was, then it had to be worth a try. Made me wonder if I should enlist more help, maybe from Dad. The thought stayed with me until Dad and I were on our own again.

  “How well do you know Dora?” I asked him as he drove me home post-practice. I tried to make it sound like an innocent question, not wanting to give any hint of my secret visits.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you know, how often do you see her? Is she comfortable with you, like she must be with Mom?”

  Dad looked a bit sheepish. “Well, she knows who I am, but I haven’t seen her in months. It’s difficult. I didn’t know her before the accident and…well…I’m not exactly big on small talk.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t need you to talk to her. It might be enough just to sit and keep her company.”

  He looked at me from the corner of his eye, wondering where this new Dora expertise was coming from. I’d pushed too far, too quick.

  “Maybe I’ll go soon, then. When your mom needs a day off.”

  “Or maybe you could do something different with her? I mean, she must get bored with the same surroundings. Might do her good to see something different, something new.”

  “Charlie, where are you going with this?”

  I shrugged lazily. “Nowhere. I’m just interested. You can’t expect me to know about her, then not care. Be fair, will you?”

  “I’ll be fair if you tell me the truth. I can’t take her out of the hospital just so you can see her again. As much as I know you’d like that, I just can’t do it.”

  I felt my temper rise. He wasn’t going to help my plan in any way, and he was also reminding me of the promises he hadn’t made good on.

  “But you are still going to talk to Mom about everything, aren’t you? Like you said you would?”

  There was a pause. Not a long one, but it felt definitive.

  “I just have to pick the right time.”

  “Oh, right. And when is that? When I’m eighteen? Twenty-one? Or are you just going to wait until something really awful happens to Dora? Is she going to have to die before you finally get around to it?”

  That hurt him. I knew it did, but I didn’t flinch. I didn’t have time to mess around anymore, and he shouldn’t have wanted to either.

  “Look, I’m doing my best,” he pleaded as we stopped at a light.
“I’m helping you now, aren’t I? Isn’t that enough?”

  I reached for the handle and pulled the door open before jumping out. “Nowhere near,” I snapped, throwing the board beneath my feet and pushing off.

  “Charlie. Get back in, will you?”

  I ignored him.

  “Come on. Mom’ll be on her way home by now. What if she sees you?”

  I smiled thinly. “Do you really think that matters anymore, Dad? Really?”

  He had no answer to that, and after crawling alongside me for another hundred yards, he accelerated away. I was on my own, in more ways than one.

  School was buzzing, though it wasn’t just the prospect of six weeks off that had everyone so excited. It was the double whammy of Skatefest and Sinus’s anonymous art extravaganza that had everyone whipped into a frenzy.

  Mr. Peach had been true to his word about the vandalism and had done everything in his power to bring the school back to its usual beige tones, short of patrolling the grounds with a rabid German shepherd.

  But every time the janitor painted a wall, Sinus redecorated it, his mind and hand going to extraordinary lengths to ensure the new design was bigger, better, bolder, and way more infuriating for the principal.

  Students started turning up early for classes, faces pushed through the locked gates for a first peek at the new designs.

  Copycat images appeared on pencil cases and bags; Peach went ballistic when a huge group of eighth-grade girls wrote BWB on their faces in pen. When someone started selling T-shirts, I found it hard to believe that Sinus hadn’t already thought of it.

  He strutted around school, anonymous but strangely famous at the same time (at least in his own head). He spent far less time with his notebook in his hand, which, if the teachers had been smarter, might have given the game away.