The Bubble Boy (20 page)

I smile. After worrying about everything, I can’t wait to go. I tell Henry what’s written in Amir’s notes, how much air I’ve got and that he’s
worked out I can take 4,576 breaths in three hours and still have some air left. Henry tells me NASA worked that out for him too but he hasn’t seen the data because all the scientists have it
protected on their laptops and they all need to scan their fingerprints to access it. I tell him that I still don’t know where I’m going, only that I won’t be able to see much at
first but it will get light while I’m out.

I look around my room. When people go on a trip they usually know where they are going. They take sandwiches and drinks and eat them in the car or get out and sit on a blanket
in a field. Greg told me that whenever he goes away with Katie he always takes a rucksack with important things like a torch, a penknife and a coat in case it gets cold or rains. I don’t know
if I’m going to a beach, to a river, or a park, or if it’s going to be cold or hot but even if I did, I don’t have anything to take with me. I don’t have any walking boots.
I don’t have a coat. I don’t even have a rucksack for drinks or food. All I’ve got are my trainers and clothes.

The Skype light goes out. I think of messaging Hannah again but she hasn’t replied yet. I pick up my controllers and play FIFA. I’m Arsenal and we’re playing
Barcelona. I play all afternoon, ten games. Lionel Messi is too good. He scores twenty-two goals. I keep trying but I still can’t get Arsenal to win.

The sky begins to turn black outside and the lights in the glass building are dim. I turn Spotify on and listen to music while I’m in the shower. I close my eyes and let
the water fall on my head. It soaks my hair and drips down my body. Is this what rain feels like? I screw my eyes tight and try to imagine what it would be like but all I can see are purple circles
on the inside of my eyelids. I take a deep breath. I can’t see the rain, I can’t see mine and Beth’s house – it’s like all the pictures in my head have gone. I open my
eyes and smile. It doesn’t matter that the pictures have gone because tomorrow I’m going outside and I’ll see the world for real.

I hear the door slide open. Greg shouts out and asks me if I’m okay. I tell him I am. I want to tell him what’s going to happen. I want him to feel as excited as me but I know if I
do he won’t let me go.

‘Mate, you okay? You’re taking a while.’

‘Sorry, I’m fine. Just checking for bruises.’

I dry myself and check my skin. There’s a small bruise on my elbow where I leaned on the window sill, but it’s more red than brown. I don’t think it’s worth telling Greg
about. I don’t want the doctors coming round and getting in the way.

When I go back into the room, Greg is sitting in the chair by the side of my bed. His head is back and his eyes are half closed. I put my dirty clothes in the basket by the door and get into
bed.

‘Everything okay, mate?’ Greg asks softly.

I nod.

‘Did you send the message?’

‘Message?’

‘You forgotten already? The girl.’

‘Oh, yes. Sorry.’

I pull my sheet up over me. Greg puts his hand on my shoulder.

‘Mate, you sure you’re all right. You look a bit worried.’

‘I’m fine, I’m just a bit tired.’

Greg looks at me for a long time like he’s trying to work out what I’m thinking.

I reach over for my laptop. ‘I’ll just check my messages,’ I say.

‘You just said you were tired!’

‘It’s not just hers.’

‘I know, mate. She’s probably asleep anyway. Like you should be.’ I look at my laptop. Greg shakes his head. ‘Go on then, but just make it the one.’

I look at the screen. My last conversation with Henry is still there. I click off it and look at Greg. I don’t think he saw. He’s got his head rested against the chair like
he’s really tired. That was close. I take a deep breath and click on my messages.

I smile and turn my laptop towards Greg. He’s leant forward with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

‘You were wrong.’

Greg doesn’t move. I tap him on the shoulder.

‘What’s that, mate?’ He looks up and pulls his hair out of his eyes.

‘You were wrong about girls not liking superheroes. Hannah likes Wolverine.’

‘That’s good, mate.’ Greg puts his head back against the chair. His eyes are watering like he’s just yawned. I ask him if he’s okay.

‘Yeah, mate. I’m just knackered.’

He reaches behind him, turns the switch and dims the lights. I rest back down on my pillow. Greg does look tired but I don’t think it’s just that. I roll over on my side.

‘Is Katie, okay?’

Greg sighs. ‘Yeah, she’s fine, mate.’

‘What about everyone else in here?’

He sniffs and wipes his nose on his hand. ‘Sorry, mate. I think I need to go.’ He stands up. ‘I’ll catch you the day after tomorrow.’

I don’t know what to do or what to say. The only person I’ve ever seen cry is Beth; all the others have been on TV. I swing my legs over the side of my bed.

‘Can you tell me what it is?’

Greg shakes his head. ‘No, mate. We’re not supposed to.’

I look down at the floor then back up at him.

‘I think I know.’

‘Yeah. I think you do.’

My throat throbs and my eyes begin to water. Greg puts his hand on my head.

‘Get some sleep, mate. Big day for your friend tomorrow.’

I close my eyes, lie down and hear the click of the door as Greg goes out. I roll over onto my side. It’s a big day for both me and Henry tomorrow but I don’t care about it any more.
A tear falls down the side of my face onto my pillow. I never got to meet him but it feels like I did. I close my eyes tight. I think the snooker-ball kid has died.

11 years, 3 months and 11 days

The nurses smile and talk in whispers.

‘Hi, Joe, how are you doing? Just checking in on you. Nothing to worry about.’

The doctors smile and tell jokes and talk about football.

‘Shame about Arsenal, they always run out of steam. Hey, was that Theo Walcott I just saw limping down the road?’

I smile and talk about superheroes.

‘I just watched
Guardians of the Galaxy
, Quill’s on the run from Ronan and he made a truce with Rocket, who’s a gun-toting racoon.’

Dr Moore ruffles my hair. ‘Good lad, catch you tomorrow.’

The nurses smile. ‘Goodbye, Joe. Be back later.’

‘Okay?’

I nod. ‘Okay.’

Everything is okay.

‘We just have to keep going.’

Jim the security guard leaves.

Keith the security guard arrives.

Everyone keeps going.

And I keep watching my screens, the morning after the snooker-ball kid has died. I feel bad about that. It’s not because I don’t care about him, it’s that I can’t stop
thinking about the most exciting thing in my life. Going outside. I check my phone every ten minutes but Amir doesn’t send me a message. Where’s he going to take me? It’ll be too
late to go and see a movie and we can’t go to the shops because they’ll be closed too. But even if they were open I don’t think I’d want to go there anyway. I want to go
outside and see real things. I don’t want to get out of this room and swap it for another one.

In the middle of the morning some nurses and doctors I don’t know gather by reception. They stand in little groups, talking and laughing. The lift door opens. A girl in a wheelchair is
being pushed out of a ward. Her mum and dad are walking behind her smiling. She’s got an oxygen tank by the side of her, white tape on her lip and a tube going up her nose. The doctors and
nurses gather around her, then shake hands with her mum and dad. Keith walks over to them. I think maybe he’s going to tell them to move on, that they’re all in the way. He puts his
hand in his pocket and pulls out his phone. The nurses and doctors stand up and stand either side of the girl. Keith holds up his phone.

I think he says ‘Say cheese’.

They all smile.

Keith takes a picture.

A nurse hugs the girl. Dr Hussein shakes her dad’s hand. Her mum wipes her eyes. They walk towards the doors. An ambulance pulls up outside. The girl and her parents get in the back and
the ambulance pulls away. She’s gone home. I glance up at the clock. There’s only sixteen hours left until I go outside but I still haven’t heard from Amir. I glance at my phone
again.

My heart jumps when the Skype light flashes on my laptop. I look at the screen. It’s a message from Henry.

I laugh and go to reply but Henry’s pen is still scribbling away.