The Bubble Wrap Boy (13 page)

E
very corridor looked the same.

I was beginning to forget which ones we'd already explored, panic rising as my ticking watch echoed louder and louder, bouncing off the high ceilings.

“Anything?” I stage-whispered to Sinus.

He shook his head and peered through the next door, banging his nose on the window as he did it. There wasn't time to laugh.

It would have helped if I knew what Dora looked like, but I had nothing to go on. Not her age, hair color, anything.

I didn't even know if she was older or younger than Mom—she might've been adopted, for all I knew. We could be looking all night.

It felt weird looking in on the patients, like I was planning to rummage through their stuff or something. What made it worse was just how incredibly ill they were: most were in bed; some were sleeping, while some lay staring into space. The more active ones were propped up in chairs, watching the TV in front of them. It didn't look like they were registering the flashing images, never mind enjoying them.

I started to worry about how ill Dora might be. These fits she'd been having: What did they mean? What if seeing me made her have another one? What would I do? I started to freak out, my thumping heart threatening to call the search off, when Sinus yelled way too loudly from the bottom of the corridor.

“I've found her!” he shouted, but he wasn't smiling. “She's here.”

My feet flew down the hall quicker than any board could.

Sinus stood, face fixed to the window, breath steaming it up.

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

I pushed him aside a little too roughly and wiped the window with my sleeve.

And there she was.

It had to be her.

Had to be.

She looked like a broken-bird version of my mom.

I don't know why, but I'd seen her in my head as a big woman, overweight and loud, maybe even wild-looking.

But Dora was none of those things.

She was tiny, toothpick thin. Her limbs more bone than flesh, skin stretched so tightly over her joints I was worried it could rip at the slightest movement.

She was so different from Mom, but I had no doubt they were sisters. One glance at her eyes told me that. They burned with the same fire. It was like seeing Mom in fifty years' time.

She was a bit scary to look at, like a puppet on an old TV show, but despite the slight revulsion (and, as a result, guilt), I couldn't stop myself from pushing through the door and into her room.

“Keep a lookout,” I whispered to Sinus, who stood, chest out, bodyguard-style, at the door.

Her room was tidy but full of stuff. She looked like she'd lived there all her life, compounding the enormity of the lie.

There were shelves in every corner, crammed with pottery figures and animals. Elephants especially, all of them with their trunks facing the window.

My eyes flicked restlessly over every surface. I wasn't interested in the bric-a-brac. I was looking for something that reinforced what I already feared, and I found it on the table next to her bed.

A brown wooden picture frame, Mom, Dad, and me smiling out of it. I remember it being taken, minutes after leaving the theater about five years ago. We'd laughed harder than we ever had, before or since. Mom looked completely happy, not a trace of worry anywhere on her face. I'd always loved it for that reason. Hoped one day I might get an encore.

The presence of the photo stunned me, shouted without doubt that Dora was real, that there'd been no mistake in what I'd learned on the phone. The truth forced the fizzing adrenaline through the soles of my feet as I flopped onto the edge of her bed. After gazing at the photo for another moment, I raised my eyes to meet hers. She was looking at me. It made me jump.

“Hello,” I blurted. “I'm, um…Charlie. Your nephew. Apparently. Remember?” I lifted the frame next to my cheek and tried to re-create the smile in the picture. I was acting like the one with the head injury rather than her, so I put the frame down and smiled apologetically.

She said nothing. Just drilled her gaze deeper and deeper into me. I wondered if she
could
talk. Had to try and see.

“I didn't know about you.” I leaned forward, trying to look relaxed when really I was beyond nervous. “Not until this afternoon. They called to say you were sick, which was kind of a shock since I didn't even know you were alive! Imagine that, huh?”

Her mouth twisted; that was followed by a stream of spit and a strange noise somewhere between a croak and a scream. Was she trying to talk to me or call for help? I had no clue, had to watch as the drool dangled helplessly from her chin.

There was a box of tissues by her chair, so I offered her one. She looked at me like I was crazy. She could move her arms and hands—they were twitching around on her lap—but they didn't seem interested or able to reach the tissue.

Slowly, I leaned in to wipe her mouth. I don't know why I was hesitant—it didn't look like she would bite—but I just wasn't used to people who were so…I don't know, sick. And anyway, this wasn't getting me anywhere. Not in terms of answers.

As my hand reached her, she raised her head slightly, offering me her wet chin.

“Thanks,” I said, wiping the spit away gently. “That's better, isn't it?”

She said nothing, just stared.

“They told me you were sick. That you've been having seizures. Bad ones.” It seemed crazy talking to her like this, but I didn't know what else to do. “What happened to put you here? Is it something to do with Mom? Is this why she worries so much?”

Another stream of dribble ran down her chin, but I wiped it away before it fell.

“I just wish I'd known about you, you know. I would've come earlier if I had, honest.”

At that moment, I thought I saw something resembling a smile, and my heart leapt. Unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to look again, as Sinus pushed through the door and almost landed on top of me.

“Oh no,” he gasped. “Oh no, no, no, no, no…”

I was on my feet already. “What is it? Is someone coming?”

He was out of breath, despite only running a few feet.

“Not anyone,” he gasped. “Not
anyone
! Your mom!”

W
ithin seconds, Sinus and I became the biggest clichés walking the earth.

Knowing we couldn't exit by the door without Mom seeing us, we fumbled around the room, yelping and getting in each other's way, much to my aunt's delight. Her laughter was the strongest evidence of life within her fragile frame yet.

Dora's bed wasn't made for hiding under, too many levers and mechanisms, and if Mom got the sense someone else was in here, then I knew it would be the first place she'd look.

Or possibly the second, after the closet, where Sinus had leapt in sheer panic.

Neither of us was getting points for originality, that was for sure.

It wasn't exactly spacious under the bed: it took a lot of frantic wriggling to hide myself completely, but somehow I managed it (thank the Lord for my tiny bones), wedged up against a metal pole that adjusted the bed's height. If they decided to mess with that, I was in danger of being skewered, kebab-style. Still, it'd make it easier for Mom to roast me, wouldn't it?

The door flew open and my mom's voice cut in, only just audible above my thumping heart.

“So who
did
you talk to on the phone?” she asked, the usual panic in her voice.

“I have no idea. I should have realized it wasn't you when the questions started. I'm so sorry, Shelly. I'd tried your cell phone umpteen times, so I didn't know what else to do.” I recognized who this was: Pauline, the woman I'd spoken to on the phone.

“Don't worry,” said Mom. “You must have called the wrong number.”

“But why did they pretend to be you, then? I just don't understand it. There's some sick people out there.”

Yeah,
I thought.
You're talking to one. A devious, conniving one.

I didn't like this Pauline and her endless questions either. What was she? A nurse or a private eye? I lay there, thinking how she should be devoting her time to helping Dora instead of piecing everything together so neatly for Mom.

The footsteps stomped closer, stopping at Dora's chair, a few feet from my head.

I had no idea how they couldn't smell my panic.

Mom began to speak to her sister, her voice softening instantly, a tone that was new to my ears.

“Hello, Dor,” she cooed. “Sorry I didn't get here earlier. I didn't know you were sick again. How are you feeling?”

I slid my head in line with the very edge of the bed frame. Risky, but it got their faces to sneak into view. It was weird to see them, two sisters, almost nose to nose. It was like they were both looking into a fun-house mirror.

It killed me, everything about it: that Dora was sick, that I hadn't known, that Mom was so sad, but also that she was devious enough to lie to me. All of it. I felt my shoulders tense as tears started to gather, but I told myself to quit it. I didn't know enough, or trust Mom enough to give me the truth if I gave myself away. Besides, there wasn't room to cry under there. Not without drowning in a salty puddle of my own making.

I had to hold it together, wait until Mom left, and then work out what to do. Then I could be angry or sad or confused: whatever helped.

“So how severe was the seizure?” Mom asked Pauline, her eyes never leaving Dora.

“I won't lie to you, Shelly. It was a prolonged episode. The sort we'd hoped the new medication would control. But it looks like we'll need to reassess. Find the right dosage.”

Mom rubbed her eyes. She looked terribly tired.

“I'm so sorry, Dor,” she whispered. “You don't deserve this.”

Dora made her own sad sound, like she was agreeing with her.

“It should be me lying there, shouldn't it? Not you.”

My head was on the verge of exploding now. I didn't need another bombshell on top of what I was already trying to process. What did she mean? Why should it be her? I was so confused I had to bite my lip to stop myself from asking why.

“So what have you been doing today, hmmm?” Mom asked as she tucked a blanket over Dora's lap. “Have you watched some TV?”

A stream of noises came from Dora—words, I guessed—and although they made no sense to me, they definitely did to her, and to Mom too, it seemed.

She listened patiently, watching as her sister's hands twitched in her lap. “Really?” It was like she was answering a toddler. “And how was that?”

Dora's words got harsher, louder, her arms waved like a windmill.

“Okay, okay, calm down, honey. There's no point getting yourself in a state. I'm here now, aren't I, and the doctors will sort out these problems, I promise.”

But I didn't think Dora was telling Mom about the seizures: Dora was telling her sister about her nephew under the bed and the big-nosed kid in her closet.

Not that Mom understood this time. Instead, she clicked into overbearing mode. This was the Mom I knew.

“Now calm down, Dor. There's no point in getting yourself all worked up. Not after the day you've had.”

She had stamina, though, did Dora. Wouldn't stop grunting and waving for the next fifteen minutes as my legs slowly went from cramping to sleeping to a deep comatose state. I dreaded to think how long Sinus would be able to keep quiet, unless he'd fallen asleep in there. I had to presume he had, dreaming weirdly about the world's biggest wall.

I thought Mom would never leave. That in the end I'd give myself away by my growing hair snaking from under the bed and up her crossed legs.

Mom sat for eons, sometimes talking, sometimes silent.

They were obviously very comfortable in each other's company that was for sure. In the end it was Pauline who saved us, a beeping on her pager causing her to turn back to Mom.

“The doctor's finished his rounds now, Shelly. Do you want to try and talk to him about Dora's meds?”

Mom nodded enthusiastically and gathered her stuff, pausing to kiss her sister gently on the forehead.

“I'll be back in a bit,” she whispered. “Try not to get yourself overexcited.” I recognized the force in her voice.

Dora grunted once more as the door closed behind Mom.

No sooner had it shut than the closet door flew open, a sneeze from Sinus almost blowing it clean off its hinges.

“Freakin' dusty in there,” he moaned, using a coat hanging inside to wipe his nose. “I've been holding that in for twenty minutes.”

“Sounded like it,” I groaned as he pulled me from under the bed, my shoulders scraping against the frame as I emerged. “I thought she'd never leave.”

“Me neither. I'm starving. You got anything in that basket on your bike?”

I didn't answer. Food was the last thing on my mind.

I crouched in front of my aunt and tentatively, gently took her hand. Her bones crackled beneath my fingers. It was like holding a piece of hundred-year-old tissue paper.

“Sorry about that, Aunt Dor,” I whispered, shivering at how strange those words felt. “We didn't mean to freak you out. I'll talk to Mom, I promise. Sort all this out. You don't have to worry about a thing. Just get yourself well.”

The words sounded hollow, stupid. This was clearly as well as she got.

“I'll come back soon. Next week or something. Okay?”

She groaned and let her head fall back to the headrest, eyes already closing. She was tired. And I suppose I should've been too. But there wasn't time. We had to get on the rhino and back home pronto, as I knew now what I had to do. It wasn't a great idea. But then again, it was all I had.

I had to talk to Dad.