The Bubble Boy (17 page)

I hear a sniff and look up. Henry’s mum is smiling but wiping a tear from her eye at the same time.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say.

Henry’s mum wipes her nose on her sleeve.

‘You good, Joe?’ says Henry’s dad.

‘Yes, I’m just a bit tired now.’

‘Not surprised,’ says Henry. ‘You’ve been all the way to Trafalgar Square and back again.’

I smile. ‘Think I might get some rest.’

‘Okay.’

They all wave and shout goodbye. I pick up my phone and text Beth.

A minute later she replies.

My fingers hover over the keypad. I want to tell her that Amir is taking me out too, but she’d tell me not to go, she might even tell the nurses. But she’d want what
I wanted, wouldn’t she? I press the keys.

My thumb is over the Send key.

I shake my head. I don’t want her to worry. I take a deep breath and press Delete.

I sigh and hold my phone down by my side.

On my screens the workmen are still digging the trench. The traffic lights are changing from red to green. On the bottom screen I see someone on the roof of my building. It’s the man in
the boiler suit. He slides his bag off his shoulder, reaches in and pulls out a knife. I didn’t think that we had pigeons on our roof too. They damage buildings and carry disease. They could
get trapped in the cooling towers and the disease would come through the tubes and out through the vents. But the vents have got filters and my machines have got sensors. I look up the
air-conditioning unit. The blades turn down towards me and the air blows in. The germs could be coming in right now. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. How can I even think of going outside
when I’m so scared of catching a disease in here? I take another deep breath and open my eyes. The man walks between the cooling towers. I pick up my remote and turn the screens off.

11 years, 3 months and 8 days

The light on my laptop has been flashing all morning. The documentary was on TV last night and already the messages have started to arrive. It’s like this every year. At
first they didn’t let me see them all. They censored them by blocking all the rude ones or the ones they thought would upset me. But now I’m older they let them all through, except the
ones with the f-word.

Greg sat and watched the documentary with me. I was on for 14 minutes and 45 seconds. They cut out the bit about the wasp, all the times I went to the toilet, and the hour the fly was on the
wall was cut to fifteen seconds. But they left in the bit about me being a superhero. Greg laughed when he heard me say that. The rest of the programme was interviews with doctors and some of the
kids in the rest of the wards. I saw the girl who pretends she’s a horse trotting between the beds and I saw the boy who reads
The Hunger Games
on his own in a corner with his book. He
didn’t really say much, except that his favourite film was
The Amazing Spider-Man
. I thought the boy was quite cool and wished we could watch it together. But the snooker-ball kid was
my favourite. He never sat still. Graham was trying to talk to him while New-cameraman-David chased after them with the camera and when he caught up with them the snooker-ball kid was out of breath
and talked really fast.

‘ThedoctorsandthenursesarereallykindlikeandIliketheotherkids tooeveniftheydon’tsupportNewcastle.’

Me and Greg laughed. Then we laughed even more when he got a sheet from his bed and ran around the ward pretending he was a ghost. But even though he laughed a lot I could tell he wasn’t
very well. I could see his veins underneath the red paint on his head and his legs were the same thickness as my arms. I’d like to meet him, but if I did I think I’d be too tired to
keep up with him.

I pick up my laptop. I’ve got six messages and I’ve already had conversations with some of them. I click on the first one.

Most of the messages I receive are like these. I think they think they are the only ones who ask the same questions, but I don’t mind. It must be what it’s like for
film stars when they get interviewed for newspapers and on TV. Greg said it’s a good thing because at least it shows people were watching me and thinking about me. A new message beeps on my
screen.

I wish it was true. I wish I was faking. I wish when they stopped filming I could just put my coat on and go outside. I would love to go to KFC. I’ve only ever seen it on
films or sometimes I’ve seen the red boxes blowing down the street. I don’t know what it tastes like. Greg told me it’s greasy and smells of sawdust, but that doesn’t help
because I don’t know what sawdust smells like.

My phone buzzes. My mornings are never as busy as this. I pick it up. It’s a message from Beth.

My phone rings. I look at the screen. Beth? She never calls. Maybe she wants to talk about last night. I hold my phone up to my ear.

‘Joe.’

‘Yes.’

She says my name again but then all I can hear is a muffled sound and the roar of traffic.

‘Beth,’ I say. ‘I can’t hear you.’ I look at my phone. I’ve got three bars. ‘Beth.’

The noise of the traffic has gone; all I can hear is Beth crying. My heart beats fast. I get off my bed and walk around the room.

‘Beth, what’s wrong?’

She tries to speak but all she does is cry more.

‘Beth, where are you?’

The phone goes dead. I look at my screen. She’s gone. I walk over to the window and dial her number. My phone buzzes in my hand before I get through.

My hands are shaking I can hardly type.

Oh no! I forgot I did that. I look around the room, up at the air-con. I could tell her it had switched on when Graham asked me the question. I could say it was blowing really
hard, so hard that the air stung my eyes, but she’ll know that’s not true.

I look at my phone and wait for another message. The screen goes blank. I hate it when Beth goes quiet.

I smile and close my eyes and try to think of something else that will make her laugh but my phone buzzes again before I can.

She has to stay there. If Mum and Dad were alive, she would. I want her to do what she wants to do and get the best job, and be happy. I don’t want her to be thinking
about me all the time.