The Bubble Wrap Boy Read online

  As my fingers rested on its wheels, my heart rate fell in relief, only to jump skyward again when a hand gripped me from behind.

  I turned, head spinning, fearing a rocket from Mom, only to find Sinus towering over me, his nose, as always, right in the middle of my business.

  “What are you doing, dweeb?”

  I grabbed his sweater in relief, not sure whether to kiss him or whack him for sneaking up on me.

  “Nothing!” I yelled, stashing the board in my backpack as best I could.

  “That a skateboard?”

  I stared at him, mystified by the sheer idiocy of his statement, wondering if it was actually some kind of trick question.

  “Um, yes?”

  “You still doing that, huh?” There was a hint of hurt on his face.

  You see, the thing was, the skating had kind of taken Sinus’s place. I really didn’t think it would bother him, had always imagined I would be replaced in his life by a new, impressive-looking wall. But from the annoyed expression on his face, I’d clearly gotten that wrong.

  “And how’s it going? Lost any teeth yet?”

  I showed him my pearly whites. “Not a single problem,” I lied, neglecting to mention my body’s worth of bruises.

  “Can’t say the same for Bunion,” he huffed. “He’s put on ten pounds since you started dealing to him. Mom wants to put him on a diet. Keeps threatening him with one of those fat camps if he doesn’t stop eating prawn crackers.”

  The whole slavery deal with Bunion hadn’t done much for my stress levels either. I’d had to invent orders to Dad, then come back without money for them, claiming the customer had refused to pay. Made me realize how lucky I was that Dad was so quiet. Anyone with a temper would’ve been banging on doors waving a cleaver until they coughed up!

  As a result, I felt nothing for the fat boy Bunion. Served the greedy jerk right. He could’ve given me the board for free if he’d really wanted.

  We started walking toward school, Sinus flicking through his notebook as we walked. I had no idea what he’d written in there, but he looked pleased with himself.

  “So, how good are you?” he asked.

  “What, at skating?”

  “No, ballet. Of course skating.”

  “I can get by.”

  “You doing any tricks?”

  “Not really. Haven’t tried yet. But I can turn now.”

  “You can TURN? Sweet lord!” His words dripped with sarcasm. “Must make the eight weeks seem SO worthwhile.”

  He was getting on my last nerve. Did he have to pick holes in every single thing I did? It wasn’t as if he was filling his life with anything better. What was he doing to stop others from thinking he was a freak? At least I was trying.

  “You know, you could try supporting me instead of laughing. I heard through the grapevine that that’s what friends do these days.”

  He looked at me, completely baffled.

  “What?”

  “Why do you hang around with me, Sinus? Seriously. Do you even like me?”

  “That’s got absolutely nothing to do with anything, Charlie,” he said, deadly serious. “Don’t you get it? We fit, don’t we? No one else wants to be friends with us, so we might as well just get on with it.”

  He meant it, but I tried not to believe it or let my newfound confidence crumble as a result. I shook my head and marched on.

  “What?” he asked. “What did I say?”

  “Nothing. You haven’t said anything. Nothing I shouldn’t have expected, anyway.”

  “Don’t be like that,” he moaned through his nose. “Tell you what. I’ll come watch you. On your board. Today after school.”

  “Wow, that’s really big of you,” I said sarcastically.

  His chest filled with pride as he slapped me on my back.

  His irony radar was off-kilter.

  “That’s just how I roll.” He grinned. “That’s what friends do!”

  There was no answer to that. I walked on, not stopping when he became distracted by a newly plastered wall at the school gates.

  This had been a bad idea. Terrible, in fact. The worst idea since the captain of the Titanic forgot to wear his glasses on that final night shift.

  I swore the ramp had grown another four feet overnight. Either that or I’d shrunk.

  I didn’t know which possibility was worse.

  Sinus wasn’t making things any easier either. Not that that should have come as a surprise.

  “Ha!” he shrieked. “Are you kidding me? Are you seriously going to throw yourself off that thing?”

  “I wasn’t planning to,” I said with a sigh, “but I might throw you off it if you don’t shut up.”

  “You can try.” He shoulder-bumped me, a little harder than a friend really should have, causing me to drop my board with a thud.

  I picked it up sheepishly, hoping the kids by the ramp hadn’t noticed.

  “I think I’ll stick to the other parts of the park for now. You know, just to ease myself in.” I was talking to myself really, but of course Sinus heard.

  “Good thinking. Why don’t you take a dip in the shallow end? Get your suit on and I’ll grab the hose.” He snorted through his nose, dislodging a booger the size of a family car. Classy.

  “Do me a favor and sit here, will you?” I motioned to the grass outside the skate area. “I think your support might overpower me otherwise.”

  “Good idea.” He threw himself down and became immediately fixated on both a public restroom wall and his notebook. With a bit of luck he’d be staring at them for the next hour and not me.

  My heart was thumping out of my chest as I walked through the gate; it felt like I had the chance to forget a lifetime’s embarrassments and start again with a clean slate.

  Immediately, I knocked a kid off his board as he sailed past.

  “Sorry!” I yelled.

  He waved back with a grin as he climbed back on board.

  My heart clambered back down inside my chest, warning me not to mess up again.

  There were bodies everywhere, all of them flying in different directions, some of them higher in the air than I thought humanly possible. I could feel the wind whistle as they went past; it was every bit as exciting as I thought it would be.

  I settled on the edge of a bench, only for another skater to use it as a ramp. He didn’t bother telling me to move first.

  He was so in control that he cut the air beside me, missing intentionally by inches. In that moment I fell in love even more.

  Two boys were watching, filming the move on their phones, whooping encouragement before sliding toward me. I knew them from school, older kids. All floppy hair and awkward shuffling feet. It seemed impossible to imagine them being graceful on a board.

  “We know you, don’t we?” the taller one asked.

  “Yeah, you’re the kid from the Chinese place. The weird one.”

  I didn’t dare correct him. Anything I could come up with under that kind of pressure would only reinforce his opinion, especially with my squeak of a voice.

  The taller boy, who was sporting a flimsy, misguided attempt at a beard, pointed and smiled.

  “Yeah, I know you. You’re the one who broke the janitor’s leg. Legendary fall that one. BIG ladder!”

  “Fifteen metal rods he had put in,” the other one chirped.

  This wasn’t quite the level of anonymity I’d hoped for.

  “Charlie,” I blurted, offering my hand.

  “Dan,” said one.

  “Stan,” said the other, and they both grabbed my hand in an elaborate shake that I struggled to keep up with. They were more dexterous than they were intelligent. I wondered if I should make it easier for them by changing my name to rhyme with theirs.

  “So how long have you been skating?” asked Stan, eyeing my board.

  “Not long. Few weeks.” I didn’t want to say any longer in case I stunk. I wanted them to be impressed, not appalled.

  “Excellent board. New whe
els, huh?”

  I looked at them, hoping I’d made a good choice.

  “Yeah, been saving up my money. Wanted something that gave me an edge.”

  I really hoped they hadn’t seen me on the steel rhino. I didn’t think I could ever live that down.

  “Wicked, they are. Not cheap either.” They spun the wheels quickly, practically salivating at the speed.

  My board opened up a whole line of conversation, and even though they were older than me, and obviously way better skaters, they were kind of, well, interested. In me. They asked where I’d been practicing and, more importantly, what tricks I’d mastered.

  “Not many.” I blushed. “Been concentrating on not falling off, really.”

  CRINGE! Wrong thing to say? I had no idea but feared the worst.

  Dan waved his hand dismissively. “Nah, you don’t want to worry about wiping out. People who stay on their feet obviously aren’t pushing hard enough.”

  “True,” agreed Stan. “Check this bad boy out.” And he rolled up his sleeve to reveal a bruise that matched any of mine. “Did this on the library steps.” He beamed proudly.

  “Managed the first six. Seventh one laid me up, though.”

  “You’ll nail it next time, bro,” Dan said, slapping his friend roughly on the back.

  “Too right,” I added, wondering where I should whack him too, or whether that would be too much too soon.

  I had no idea where the boundaries were; this was virgin territory for me—a conversation with someone other than Sinus?

  With that, they pulled me over to the side of the park and started teaching me to do an ollie.

  “It’s the best place to start. No better feeling than air between your board and the ground.” Dan had a sappy look on his face as he said it, the kind of expression your grandmother gets as she puckers up at Christmas.

  Emotional looks disappeared quickly as they talked me through it, though, and man, they were excellent teachers.

  Within half an hour they had me flicking my board up into the air, and even though it was only a microsecond until my wheels hit the asphalt, I felt like I was flying.

  They seemed pretty impressed too.

  “Good skills,” chirped Dan.

  “Oh yeah. Took me ages to get that,” agreed Stan. “Few more weeks and you’ll be on the half-pipe, no problem.”

  This was going freakishly well. The stuff of legend.

  Remembering Sinus was watching, I turned to him, but he didn’t look back. Well, he did at first, for a split second, before burying his nose and pencil back in his book.

  “That your friend?” Dan asked.

  “Um…”

  Stan interrupted. “I’ve seen that kid at school. Everyone thinks he’s wired wrong. Just stands there and stares into space like some kind of loser.”

  What followed was a regular old-school character assassination, the type I overheard about myself as I walked down the hallways, the kind that made me feel like the biggest outsider to ever enter the school gates.

  They snickered and pointed at him without a trace of subtlety, but for some reason I didn’t set them straight, tell them he was all right, that he was my friend.

  Instead, I stood there silently as they ridiculed him, and even when Sinus looked back in our direction I still didn’t speak up. Instead, I put my board on the ground and went back to practicing my ollie, feeling a pang of guilt as Sinus gathered up his stuff and walked away.

  “Want to meet some of the others?” Dan asked, once Sinus had slunk out of sight.

  I should’ve said no. Thanked them for all their help and called it a day. I should’ve chased after Sinus. But I didn’t, of course.

  I buried all thought of him and nodded like a dog in a car window. Naively, I followed them, feeling for the first time in my life like I’d arrived, like I belonged.

  I lived at the ramp after that. Sprinted there after school and on weekends, made my deliveries in the quickest time possible. Anything to grab even five minutes pulling the tricks I’d been trying to master. I was able to get the bike tire fixed at our local gas station and was keeping it out of sight while I ran the deliveries on my skateboard, returning the embarrasing contraption to its spot in the shed once I was done. I didn’t want my mom finding out it had gone missing.

  I had the ollie under control now, sort of, bending my knees deeply before springing both myself and the board skyward. Within a month I was tentatively trying other stuff: shuvits, kickflips, heelflips, tricks I’d seen online but never dreamed that I’d actually attempt. Dan, Stan, and the other kids I’d met were amazing, encouraging me all the time, helping me adjust the way I stood, how far I could balance before falling.

  It didn’t even matter when I wiped out spectacularly: they did too. Didn’t matter that I was the smallest kid in the park by a mile either.

  If anything, they thought it helped me.

  “Pocket Rocket is Charlie.”

  “Low center of gravity. Helps him nail it every time.”

  It felt weird to hear their compliments. I didn’t really know what to do with them. It wasn’t what I was used to.

  I listened harder than I ever had in my life, just in case they were meant for someone else. I mean, even Sinus, my only friend, wasn’t exactly known for his random acts of kindness, so I felt myself growing every time they puffed me up.

  It made a difference outside the skate park too. I didn’t feel quite as embarrassed walking into school every day, even though most kids had no idea about my new hobby. I started looking at people’s shins instead of at the floor, even managed to speak up for myself when someone stepped on me by my locker.

  The only downside was Sinus. He disappeared. I looked for him every break and lunchtime, but he’d gone underground.

  And when I did track him down, he was quiet, blunted, lacking any kind of sharp comment or dig in my direction. Maybe he was jealous or pissed off at what I’d found. Either way, things had changed with him, and I couldn’t seem to do anything about it. I did try, out of guilt at how I’d idly watched the guys at the ramp badmouth him. But when my attempts were met with shrugs and silence, I stopped trying so hard. There was too much fun to be had at the ramp.

  Life at home was different too. Mom had thrown herself into a new course, something to do with hot-stone therapy. Sounded more like torture than pleasure to me. Either way, it meant more commitment, more nights at college, and we saw less and less of her.

  The weird thing, though, was that she didn’t look too happy about it. She was distracted, lines cobwebbing her forehead.

  “Are you really enjoying this course, Mom?” I asked.

  The smile I got back wasn’t convincing. “Wonderful,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

  “I don’t know. It’s not like you’re bouncing around the place.”

  That was true, but there was more to it than that. She hadn’t fussed over me in weeks. Not really. Even when I cut my cheek after a really gung-ho session at the park.

  She noticed it, of course she did, barging into the bathroom as I cleaned it with cotton balls.

  “You all right, Charlie, honey?”

  I felt my body tense, brain scrambling as it processed what the right answer could possibly be.

  “Yeah, it’s nothing. Got a bit rough with one of my pimples, that’s all.” I wanted to groan at the lameness of what had come out of my mouth.

  Normally that would’ve been enough to have her furiously searching the web for facial injuries, but not today. She didn’t pounce on me to inspect the damage. Nor did she try to wrestle me into the recovery position. Instead, her gaze seemed to go right through me, like she was looking at something far more important on the wall behind me.

  “You’ll do your skin no favors, bursting them like that,” she said with a sigh, before passing me the antiseptic cream from the medicine cabinet.

  I should’ve been relieved, or grateful, or both. But I wasn’t. Something was up. Personality transplants didn’
t take overnight. Not in our house.

  So for once, I was the one asking worried questions.

  “You, uh, all right, Mom?”

  “That’s very kind of you to notice, my dear,” she said, and pulled me into a hug. I felt her body shake for a second. “I’m fine. Really. Be even better if you left your poor face alone.” And that was it. She was off again, back on the bus to torture some other poor unsuspecting soul with a handful of pebbles.

  “Is she really all right?” I asked Dad, in a lull between customers.

  He was as helpful as ever, watching her until she turned the corner at the end of the street. “You know your mom…,” he said, and he shuffled back to the kitchen sheepishly.

  I chewed it over as I sat behind the counter, bagging up prawn crackers, feeling torn. Should I be concerned, or would that make me just as anxious as her? I squashed the urge in favor of a mild celebration. If this new approach gave me room to breathe, then it might give me more room to skate too….Maybe it was all good after all.

  With Mom elsewhere, mentally and otherwise, I took full advantage. Pounding the pavements on the skateboard, deliveries flying in quicker and quicker, the tips piling up in the cash box under my bed.

  All the time, though, I could only think of one thing: the half-pipe. The ramp. The gargantuan beast that I desperately wanted to tame. I knew that if I could conquer that, then the respect of the others would be complete and I’d never be the king of clumsy again. The thought of it made my palms sweat.

  How did I start practicing on it in front of the others? I mean, they always said it didn’t matter if you fell, but there were so many bodies on the ramp at one time….What would happen if I wiped everyone out? A multiboard pileup. My head raced with images of frantic emergency crews dashing to untangle a dozen pairs of arms, legs, and boards. Paranoia filled my head. It wasn’t a good place to be.

  I tried going down to the ramp after dark, when it was quiet. It was a real risk: Mom’s timetable was unpredictable, so if I found her on the front counter I had to spin a line about homework at Sinus’s. The lie stunk so bad I expected to leave surrounded by eager flies.