The Bubble Boy (14 page)

I shake my head.

‘You no like it?’

I don’t know what to say to him. He’s gone to all this trouble but I didn’t want this. All I wanted was to watch football and films, I didn’t want to see traffic and
people walking without sound. I can do that every day when I look out of the window.

Amir stands in front of me. ‘I thought I show you real people, not film stars.’

‘But real people don’t do anything interesting.’

‘They do. They walk, they talk. Not everyone run around shouting and firing guns.’ He takes the remote from me. ‘Look,’ he says, ‘there’s thirty-two cameras.
Two in reception, sixteen in the corridors, four on the roof and . . .’ He stops talking and turns his head like a dog.

‘What’s wrong?’ I ask.

‘It’s okay . . . I think I hear someone coming. If they do, just press this button or we get into trouble.’ He presses a red button and the TVs change to colour – a woman
is reading the news from a studio in Moscow; a reporter is standing in front of the Empire State building in New York; ten people are playing ice-hockey live from Ontario and women are playing
volleyball on a beach in Brazil.

‘Wow!’ I put my hands on my head.

‘Haha. You think I not get you Sky too?’

‘I was worried.’

‘Of course we got Sky. I get you the other satellites too. Now we watch TV all day and all night. Rashid get us extra 847 channels, 36 countries.’

‘Do you think we’ll be able to see Henry when he goes to the mall? He’ll be on Philly news.’

‘Umm . . . I not know, sound like it might be cable. I ask Rashid.’ Amir presses another button. ‘Hey, we got
MasterChef
in Italian.’

I shake my head.

‘What? No
MasterChef
?’

‘No, it’s not that. It’s just . . . Amir, I can’t believe what you’ve done.’

‘It great,’ he says. ‘Which one we watch? This one?’ He points at the first screen on the second row. A shark swims across an ocean. Amir presses another button. All the
screens go blank, then bits of the shark appear on all the screens: its head in the top left, its tail in the bottom right. It swims towards a man in a cage with a harpoon. ‘Oops,’ says
Amir. ‘Maybe we watch something not so scary.’

I turn and walk back to my bed. Amir gives me the remote and sits down in the chair by my side. I press another button and we watch a programme about how skyscrapers are built to survive
earthquakes in San Francisco. Amir’s eyes are shining so brightly that the skyscrapers reflect in his eyes. We both smile. Greg was right. He was building me a cinema. I might not watch
hospital CCTV very much but I didn’t think Sky would be as good as this.

Amir has to go and look after the others so he leaves me to watch TV on my own all afternoon. I watch a woman white-water rafting down a river and a man snowboarding down a mountain, then I try
out some of my DVDs –
The Amazing Spider-Man
,
Avengers Assemble
,
Batman Returns
– I loved them on normal TV, I love them even more on my massive screens.

I take a picture on my phone and send it to Henry.

I wait for a few minutes but Henry doesn’t reply. I find the scene where Thor smashes a truck into a burning building. I wish Henry could see this. We could sit here all afternoon and
flick through the sports and movie channels, and MTV. We could connect my X-Box too. I check my messages again. Maybe he’s preparing for another walk. What if his walk in the mall goes well?
They probably still won’t let him come over here but he’ll be out all the time. He won’t have time to message me or play Tekken. He’ll be busy like everyone else. Even Beth
is too busy now. I look up at my screens. I love what Amir has done but it’s not so much fun watching them on my own. There’s no one to point out things to, or to laugh with or cheer
with when someone scores a goal. But I shouldn’t be grumpy. I should be grateful. It must be the drugs. Maybe it’s because I’m tired. I pick up the remote and turn the screens
off.

Amir turns them back on when he brings me my tea. He asks me if I’m fed up with them already. I tell him I love them but I’ve been thinking about Henry and that he seems busy.

‘But he won’t be all the time. Anyway,’ he says. ‘Maybe you get busy too.’

‘In here?’

‘No, but if the suits works for him maybe you can wear it too.’

‘I don’t think so. It’s too expensive and Henry’s way bigger than me. They wouldn’t do it and the European Space Agency still hasn’t replied.’

‘We don’t need them. I could make you one. We can’t go to Philadelphia, but there’s a shopping centre near Enfield.’

‘Amir, I’m serious. They’ve got scientists.’

‘I serious too. I got my brother. He go to university.’

‘Is he a scientist?’

‘No, he get a degree in Geography.’

‘But—’

‘We a great team. I design the suit, he tell us how to get there – wow, ninety minutes.’

‘What?’

Amir nods at the screens. ‘Ninety minutes. The sperm whale can hold its breath for ninety minutes. I held mine for four when I got stuck in the lift last week.’

I lay back on my bed. The TVs have been on too long. My head is aching and I feel really tired and Amir is talking about things that can’t happen.

‘I think we should turn them off now,’ I say.

Amir looks at me. ‘Turn the TVs off? We only just got them. You need to watch them, watch everyone in the hospital, the doctors, the nurses, the security guard.’

‘The security guard?’

‘Jim, he funny. He come in when everyone go. Haven’t you seen him yet?’

‘No.’

‘You should. Watch him tonight. He funnier than Ricky Gervais.’

‘Who?’

‘No matter. Just watch.’

‘But I need to turn them off sometime. Won’t they get warm and make the room warmer?’

Amir shakes his head. ‘No, the thermostat will adjust and keep the room temperature constant, anyway, we can’t turn them off, there’s another programme I want you to watch at
eight. It’s about orangutans.’

‘Why do I want to watch that?’

‘Don’t you like orangutans?’

‘Yes, I suppose so, but I might fall asleep before it starts.’

‘I set the alarm on your laptop.’

‘Can’t I watch it on catch-up?’

‘I get you hundreds of channels and you want catch-up?’

‘Sorry.’

‘It’s okay, I only joking.’

He points the remote. The screens go blank then he gets up and walks towards the door. ‘See you later.’

‘Okay.’ I smile and close my eyes. My head begins to thud. I’m supposed to be taking it easy. Amir should know I’m not supposed to get as tired as this. He’s talked
so much he’s made me confused. He can’t build me a suit; it costs millions. He can’t really mean it, and even if he did, how would he get me out without being spotted? I love Amir
and I love my TVs but I can’t help think he’s bought them for himself and not for me.

The sun is shining and so are the car roofs. I’m in the back of our car, Beth is next to me playing on her DS, Mum and Dad are in the front seats talking and listening
to music.

‘Can I put the window down?’

‘It’s hotter outside.’

‘But can I put it down?’

‘Yes, okay.’

I wind down the window and look out. A little girl in the car next to me is asleep with her head against the glass.

A man gets out of the car behind.‘It’s an accident,’ he shouts.‘Just heard it on the radio. Twenty-seven-car pile-up.’

‘Yeah, heard it too,’ shouts another man.

He looks up at the sky. I hear the thud of rotor blades. I lean out of the window and three helicopters fly over my head.

Dad is smiling at me in the wing mirror and I reach out and touch his arm.

‘How’re you doing, Spidey?’ Dad says.

‘I’m okay, but the man just said there’s a bad accident up ahead. 27 cars.’

‘I know.’ He smiles again then rests his head on his hand.

Beth is laid out flat on the seat. Her hair is hanging down over her face and her DS is smashed on the floor.

’Hey, Beth,’ I say. ‘It’s an accident, 27 cars . . . and you missed the helicopters.’

I lean over. My seat belt pulls me back. I move it down onto my belly and reach out further. ‘Beth, the helicopters, there were three of them.’

Beth’s hand falls off the seat. I pull her hair back off her face. There’s a cut across her cheek. A line of blood trickles from her nose.

‘Mum! Dad! There’s something wrong with Beth!’ I tap Mum on the shoulder. Her head falls forward onto her chest. Dad turns around.

‘Get out, Joe,’ he says. ‘The petrol is coming in.’

I look down. Petrol is seeping under the door and covering my feet. The smell burns up my nose and makes me feel sick.

‘Joe, now.’

‘But –’ I pull at my seat-belt and reach down for the button. ‘Dad, I’m stuck!’

‘Press the button, Joe. The red button.’

‘I am, Dad. I am!’

I look up through the windscreen. Four firemen run towards me, hoses and axes in their hands. Behind them I see ambulances and police cars and blue flashing lights. I press the button. It
clicks but my belt doesn’t release. Dad reaches back, pushes my hand out of the way. My belt goes slack.

‘Now go, Joe.’

I look around the car.

‘But what about Beth, Dad? What about Mum?’

He shakes his head. A fireman reaches in through my window. He grabs my hand, wraps his arm around my chest.

‘Come on, son. Let’s go.’ He drags me out.

‘What about my mum and dad . . . and my sister?’

He looks in the car then back at me.

‘Son, there’s no one else here.’

I look back at the car. Mum and Dad and Beth have gone. All the traffic has gone; it’s just white lines and tarmac for miles and miles. I look back for the fireman. He’s gone
too.

I open my eyes. My hair is wet and my pyjama shirt is stuck to my skin. I shiver and wrap my arms around my body. The room temperature is constant but I still feel cold. I take
off my top and pull my sheets up. They’re wetter and colder than I am. My phone buzzes and makes me jump. The screen’s all blurry. I blink. It’s a text from Amir.

I put my feet on the floor and walk to the end of my bed and stop. My heart still thuds in my chest and my hands are shaking. I walk to the bathroom and take off my pyjamas. My
body is skinny and white under the light and my eyes look big for my face. I turn on the taps and wash my face. This nightmare is the worst one I have, and the one I’ve had most. I used to
call Beth after I had it. She says I still should but I know it upsets her to talk about it, and it upsets me too. It’s hard to talk about a nightmare when most of it is true.

In my nightmare I am always there in the back of the car, but I wasn’t there at all. It was just Beth and Mum and Dad. They were on the way back home to St Albans after visiting me. I
can’t remember saying goodbye to them; all I can remember is both my nans and grandads coming in to see me the next day. They never told me what happened, only that there had been a crash
– I don’t remember much about the day, everything was a blur. I think I was playing with soldiers on my bed. People were walking around and talking to me, they kept telling me Beth was
injured and that Mum and Dad were dead. It was like my brain had been switched off, because all I can remember are the soldiers and the tanks and then looking up at the transition room door,
waiting for them to come in. Beth says maybe it’s better that way. Sometimes I wish she would talk about it so I knew what happened. I didn’t find out for ages until I got my laptop and
searched it. A lorry was in front of Dad. It swerved to miss another car and jack-knifed across the road. Four other people died as well. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t looked it up. But if I
didn’t have this nightmare it would only be replaced by something else. I screw my eyes up tight and bury my head in the towel. I’m always a superhero in my dreams. I wish I could have
been one that day.

I go back into my room, get some clean pyjamas from my wardrobe. My phone buzzes. It’s Amir again. I should be grateful that he’s chatting to me but after my nightmare all I want to
do now is lie down and go to sleep.