Just Call Me Spaghetti-Hoop Boy

by Lara Williamson

  But mums do let you go, I tell myself. I look at Mum and I feel a golf ball squeeze into my throat. Mum smiles and I want to spill out everything I’m feeling. I want to say I’m happy she’s having a baby but I’m sad that it means I’ve got to go. I want to say I’m scared about leaving behind the only home I’ve ever had. But the words still won’t come. I think they’re lost.

  The following day I catch up with Tiny Eric in the playground. “You asked me why I needed good luck.” The words burble out. “And I want to explain, because Mum said if you’ve got a problem it’s always worth sharing, and I’ve got a problem.” I take a deep breath. “So you know I’m adopted?” Tiny Eric nods. “Well, guess what? I decided I wanted to do my Forest For Ever project on my real family, so I found an envelope with my birth certificate inside, and my real name is Ace and that’s got to be the name of a…” I pause.

  “A superhero,” says Tiny Eric. “That’s why you really want to be one.” Whispering, I tell Tiny Eric that he’s right and that I’m looking for my real mother now because I need to live with her. “Whoa!” exclaims Tiny Eric and he rubs his nose so hard I half expect a genie to shoot out in a puff of smoke.

  “Whoa indeed,” I reply, nodding my head. I feel the bobble on my hat move. When Tiny Eric asks why I need to live with her, I say, “Things have got complicated, because Mum and Dad are having a jelly bean. Mum said she wouldn’t let me go, but mums do let you go. That’s confusing to me. Everything is.”

  “Families are confusing,” says Tiny Eric, nodding sagely. Then he adds, “Back up! A jelly bean?” Tiny Eric blinks and then scratches his head so much I’m beginning to wonder if he’s got nits. I edge away slightly, because that’s the last thing I need. “They’re having a jelly bean. Seriously, a jelly bean? What flavour? You mean like a classic, or a sour, or those jelly beans that taste of stinky socks and vomit?”

  I sigh, “Not a real jelly bean, you idiot. Jelly bean is just the name for the size of a baby. I saw it on a TV programme. Mum and Dad have to make sacrifices. We’re packed together in our flat like sardines. So, I think I’m the sacrifice and I have to leave to make room for the baby.”

  I know Tiny Eric is interested, because he leans in towards my face. He asks how I feel and I say I don’t know how I feel. Tiny Eric shakes his head and says, “It’s hard thinking you’re going to live with someone else, especially if you don’t know them well. What if you miss your bedroom?” I nod and Tiny Eric says, “And what if you have to go to a different school and you don’t have your mates there and you worry about that and it keeps you awake but your mum says it’ll be okay. Then she says you’d be changing schools anyway because you’re going to a senior school.” Tiny Eric has hardly paused for breath.

  “Uh, okay,” I reply. “I hadn’t thought about the school and my mates, but now you’ve mentioned it I will.” I pause for a second before adding, “I’d hate to be without you, Tiny Eric.”

  Tiny Eric rubs his eyes and mutters, “Conjunctivitis again.”

  After I’ve told Tiny Eric the whole story, he asks me what my next move is and I tell him I’m not sure. I explain that I’ve exhausted the Internet and haven’t got any more clues as to where Rose Walker might be. “It’s like finding a pin in a pigsty,” I say sullenly. “And I’ve got so many questions for her.”

  “You know the area where you were born though, so we could try the local hospital to see if they’ve got any information on her. They’d have her address if she was a patient.” When I say I never thought of that, Tiny Eric beams and says it’s lucky that he did. Then the smile drops. “They keep files, you know. And if you’re moving or changing doctors, you can have them. My mum’s been trying to sort out our medical records recently.” Tiny Eric swallows. “I bet they’ve got your mum’s address.”

  “But would they tell me her address, if I asked? Could I be that lucky?”

  Tiny Eric says, “Take out the four-leaf clover and stare at it.”

  I pull the drawing from my pocket and do what Tiny Eric instructs. “Um…it’s not giving me the answer,” I say, looking up.

  “It’s a four-leaf clover,” says Tiny Eric. “Not a crystal ball.”

  While Mrs Chatterjee is talking about trust and getting us to fall back into each other’s arms during our PSHE lesson, Tiny Eric and I make a plan. We agree that we’ll text our mums to say that we’re doing homework club after school and then we’ll actually go to the hospital. Mrs Chatterjee is shouting that trust is a key issue in a relationship between two people. I tell Tiny Eric I trust him not to tell anyone what I’m up to and he nods. Tiny Eric looks like he wants to tell me something too, but then Mrs Chatterjee shouts that Tiny Eric is supposed to be behind me and catching me if I fall back and we’re not supposed to be gabbling away like two chimps at a tea party.

  I fall back and Tiny Eric catches me. Then I straighten up again.

  Nish falls back just as the bell goes. A second later he’s in a heap on the floor and everyone is stampeding over him like bulls trying to get out of the china shop.

  “What about giving me a superhero name too?” asks Tiny Eric as we hurry down the corridors towards the exit. “If you’re Ace, who can I be? What about Lizard?”

  “Taken,” I reply, swinging open the door to the playground.

  “Okay, how about Atom?”

  “Taken.”

  “Okay, what about Storm Cobra or Wild Shadow of the Night or Pegasus Park Phantom, or how about Wings of Justice? Or how about Captain Encryptor?”

  “Not taken,” I reply. “Definitely not taken.” This is clearly on account of it being total gobbledygook. Then Tiny Eric says we’re missing something. “A mask? Pants?” I say, taking the steps two at a time. Tiny Eric looks at me in disgust as we walk through the playground and says he’s wearing his. Then he says we’re missing transport that befits a crime-fighting duo. I don’t like to say that we’re not actually fighting crime, all we’re doing is trying to find out information that will lead me to my real mother. There’s a big cough behind us and we both turn round and The Beast gives us a smile.

  “How’s that broken watch?”

  “I’m still wearing it,” I reply, looking down at my wrist. “And it’s still broken,” I add.

  The Beast falls into the rhythm of our steps. “So, what are you doing now, are you going home?” When I say we’re going on a mission, The Beast’s eyes grow wide. “I like missions. I’m good with things like that. If you asked me about the missions of any superhero, I could tell you.” The Beast waits as if hoping to be invited on ours.

  Tiny Eric pretends to be hard of hearing and The Beast keeps trying to jump into our conversation without success. Eventually Tiny Eric says, “Don’t you need to go and be with your mates from your class? You’re not in our class.” Other kids push past us, laughing, and The Beast glances at them. We part like the Red Sea as more kids surge through the playground.

  The Beast looks at me across the crowd and a little part of me would like to ask The Beast about superheroes. I didn’t know The Beast was interested in anything like that, but now I’m certain it must have been The Beast at Comic Con. I smile, but before The Beast can smile back, Tiny Eric hisses, “You don’t like The Beast, do you?”

  “No,” I say a bit too quickly. “Have you seen that holly bush in the far corner of the playground? I don’t want to end up in there.” I feel my face flush and The Beast looks at me and then away. I think The Beast heard me.

  “Yeah, you wouldn’t want to get into a fight with The Beast,” whispers Tiny Eric, pulling me away. “Anyway, we’ve got bigger fish to fry at the moment.” As I glance back, I swear The Beast is frowning at me, and I feel a tiny bit guilty about what I said.

  At the top of Agamemnon Road, Tiny Eric stops in front of someone’s garden and reminds me we need transport. “I present…the Binmobile,” says Tiny Eric, waving his hands around. He might as well have announced that we are not crime busters, we are grime busters.

  “
I’m not sure this is the mode of transport I had in mind, Tiny Eric. I was expecting something sleek and black with go-faster wheels, not a wheelie bin.” Tiny Eric doesn’t answer me and I repeat what I’ve just said, and when I say it for the third time Tiny Eric reminds me his name is Captain Encryptor and he will only answer to that. It is Captain Encryptor who pulls the bin out and helps me into it and I’m thanking my lucky four-leaf clover that it is bin day and this one is empty. Meanwhile, Captain Encryptor clings onto the back and says this is an adventure and we’ll be at our destination in double-quick time. Captain Encryptor pushes us off and we’re heading down Agamemnon Road.

  Whooooooosh.

  That’s the sound of wind whistling through my bobble hat.

  Whooooooosh.

  That’s the sound of wind whistling through my stomach.

  Whooooooosh.

  That’s my life flashing in front of my eyes.

  The houses are a blurry smear as Captain Encryptor and I, Ace, the-kid-nearly-peeing-his-pants, speed down the pavement in the Binmobile. An old lady who is in the way and in danger of being flattened by the speeding wheelie bin turns and runs in the opposite direction as fast as her legs will carry her, which is quite fast considering she’s over forty-five and has probably had a hip replacement.

  “The brakes,” I shout as we hurtle to the bottom of the hill at breakneck speed.

  “Yes,” Captain Encryptor hollers back.

  “It doesn’t have any.” I’ve just finished the sentence when the Binmobile slams into a wall and I become a human catapult, whizzing through the air before landing in a painful heap. Behind me I hear Captain Encryptor say that he didn’t know I could fly but he supposes all superheroes can.

  To say I’m annoyed is the understatement of the millennium. As we walk in the direction of the hospital, Captain Encryptor is saying that it wasn’t his fault there was a wall in the wrong place and I’m saying that it wasn’t the wall’s fault that there was a bin hurtling towards it with two lunatics on board. Captain Encryptor asks where my sense of adventure is and I’m saying it’s on the ground beside the wall, along with the contents of my stomach.

  We head down past the precinct, past the shop where Velvet gets her sweets and along the street where the senior school kids hang out, and then past Sharkey’s, which has a missing cat poster in the window. It catches my eye because it looks a bit like the cat I tried to save.

  After ten minutes, Pegasus Park Hospital appears in the distance and I stop, feeling my breath catch in my throat. Suddenly everything feels different. I didn’t know I’d feel this way, because I’ve passed the hospital lots of times, but this time something inside me has changed. A tiny part of me keeps saying my real mother was here and I was here with her and that makes my insides melt. The afternoon sun dips the hospital in golden yolk and I can see people scuttling in and out as we get closer. I inhale as we step inside and I feel a shiver ribbon down my spine.

  The reception is the colour of mint chocolate-chip ice cream and I’m so busy looking around and imagining my real mother coming in here that I don’t notice the small, polite cough. Captain Encryptor wanders over to the reception desk and the lady there looks at him and says, “Hello, sir, what is your name?”

  “Captain Encryptor,” says Tiny Eric. The woman jerks her head back and then asks if she can help.

  Captain Encryptor snorts. “He is Ace and I am Captain Encryptor.”

  “They’re our superhero names. I guess you want our alter-ego names,” I clarify. “You know, like Bruce Banner.”

  “Who is Bruce Banner?”

  “He turns green,” I say, pretending to bulk up as I stand in front of the desk. “He was badly affected by gamma radiation that contaminated his cells.”

  “Contaminated cells?” The woman looks at us. “Is Bruce Banner in an isolation unit in this hospital?”

  “I don’t think so, although he’s a physicist.” The woman peers at us and taps her pen on the desk. “He’s The Incredible Hulk, from the comic books – that’s why he’s got two names,” I continue. “I’m actually Adam and Ace, but Adam will do. And I’m here to find out about my mother. Would you have her medical records and her address?”

  “What’s her name?” Exasperated, the receptionist’s fingers dangle over the computer keys. “And what is she in here for?”

  I swallow and all my senses tingle as I say, “Her name is Rose Walker and she had a baby here.”

  There’s the tap-tap-tap of the computer keys and the receptionist peers at the screen and then peers at me. “Is it an unusual spelling?” I tell her it isn’t, it’s just Rose as in the flower and Walker as in Luke Sky. The receptionist looks at me and then tap-tap-taps again and asks, “When was she admitted to maternity?”

  “Eleven years ago.” I shuffle from one foot to the other. Annoyingly, Captain Encryptor asks if I’ve got ants in my pants and I say no, but I’m going to have fun kicking him in the bum in a second if he doesn’t shut up and let me talk. Then I remind him that he nearly killed me after throwing me in a wheelie bin and Captain Encryptor says that was a load of rubbish and I agree and say it was.

  Meanwhile, Mrs Receptionist Lady, who I have decided should be called The Glacier like an arch villain from this moment on, is giving me the full force of her frosty features. And I am giving her the full glare of whatever sliver of excellence I still hold after the bin incident. It’s a stand-off. She purses her lips together and asks me to repeat myself and when I do she repeats it back, confirming that my mother was admitted to maternity eleven years ago.

  “Uh-huh,” I reply. It’s like the mothership has landed and it all makes sense to her now. “Eleven years,” I repeat. “But my other mother is having a baby now.”

  The Glacier thaws and lifts her fingers again and says, “Ah, so your other mother is in the hospital right now and her name is…”

  “Sinéad Butters,” I reply. The Glacier types it in and she looks at the screen and then she says, “Maternity,” in a funny strangled voice and I go, “Yes.” She leans in, squinting at the computer screen, then shakes her head for a brief moment. I feel like we’re getting off track, so I say it’s actually Rose Walker I want to find out about, and she looks at me and asks if that’s the person who was here eleven years ago.

  “That’s right,” says Captain Encryptor.

  Exasperated, The Glacier says she can’t help with someone’s medical records from a birth eleven years ago and anyway medical records are confidential. Then she points us towards the door.

  So we pretend to go to the door but we don’t actually leave – and when the receptionist looks down at her computer, we rush past and down the hospital corridor. “Come on,” says Captain Encryptor. “Maybe there are filing cabinets in maternity. Maybe her address would be there.” He’s pointing at a sign and saying that maternity is on the third floor. He flings open a side door and pulls me up the concrete stairs two at a time and we come out into maternity, floor three. “Come on,” shouts Captain Encryptor. “We’ve reached our destination.”

  I stop.

  I’m nervous.

  This is where it all began for me.

  This is where Ace, the superhero, was born.

  The maternity ward isn’t mint-green like reception, it’s the colour of sunshine and fluffy chicks and daffodils and it feels warm like a summer’s day. As I wander down the corridor, the same thoughts keep tumbling inside my head: my real mother came here. I’m walking in her footsteps. I’m breathing the same air. I wonder if her hands were shaking like mine are now and if she knew she was having a boy? Had she picked my name? Did she think I’d be a superhero when I got older? Was she going to keep me and then something changed? As I’m daydreaming, I can hear someone further down the corridor walking towards us and they’re talking about someone being in stitches and I don’t think they mean laughing.

  Captain Encryptor looks at me and I look up at him and then he opens the first door to our right and says, “We can hide
in here until they’ve passed.”

  The room is a dim cavern and my eyes try to adjust to the darkness. Then I hear lapping water and a strange echoey noise surrounding me, almost like we’re underwater. What’s going on?

  “It’s Moby Dick,” I hiss. “Remember when Mrs Chatterjee once talked about this book called Moby Dick and he was a giant whale. No superhero can beat Moby Dick in a fight. It’s me against fifteen thousand kilograms of blubber.” My heart has turned into a rubber ball and bounced up into my mouth. The whale sings around us and rivers of sweat burst from under my bobble hat. I’m about to scream when the lights come on and I’m dazzled.

  Captain Encryptor is standing by the light switch.

  Oh.

  It seems there is a large birthing pool in the corner of the room and whale music coming from speakers above our heads. I recognize the pool from seeing one similar on Mum’s TV programme. As I let out a puff of pure relief that I don’t have to take on a whale, Tiny Eric peers out a glass porthole in the door and says the coast is clear again. It’s time to go before we get discovered.

  We walk down the corridors but we can’t see any filing cabinets or files and it looks like we’re not going to find my mother’s address here. When we get back to reception The Glacier looks at us but then the phone rings, so we manage to get outside without her asking us where we’ve been.

  As we’re walking home I tell Tiny Eric I’m more cheesed off than a warehouse full of Cheddar. “Why does it feel like everything is so complicated?”

  Tiny Eric furrows his brow. He thinks for a moment and his fingers tighten into fists. “I don’t know.” Tiny Eric shrugs. “Maybe it’s because adults keep secrets and they do things that don’t make sense. That makes things complicated and it annoys me so much. Everything does.”

  I stare at Tiny Eric, my eyes wide. Clearly something is bothering him, so I ask him what’s wrong. At first he says there’s nothing. For a while we continue walking and Tiny Eric scratches his ear while I look up into the clouds.