Dad flinched.
“You said you needed to paint downstairs, didn’t you? Remember? In the conservatory? You only got one coat on it after it was built and you talked for weeks about doing a couple more layers.”
I dropped my notebook onto my bed and Dad stared at it. I thought he was going to pick it up again, but he stepped back and his eyes were drawn downward, under my bed. I sat quickly and dangled my legs over the side, trying to hide the box of disposable gloves with my feet.
“So what’s in the letter, Dad? From the therapist? When’s my appointment?”
He was still staring under the bed.
“It’s this week … Tuesday …”
I stayed still.
“And who’s taking me?”
I casually moved my legs, just a bit, hoping to distract him. Dad stood there, seemingly puzzled by whatever glimpse he’d had.
“We’re both coming …”
He took a step forward and …
“Brian, we’ll be late again!” Mum poked her head in the doorway. Her jaw fell as she saw that Dad was actually in my room. She quickly composed herself.
“Aren’t you coming, Matthew? Oh come on, you know you’ll enjoy it when you get there.”
I kept quiet.
“Says he’s got a load of homework,” said Dad, apparently forgetting about getting a better look at what he’d seen under my bed.
“Leave that for another day, eh?” pleaded Mum. “Come with us! It’ll be fun! I know Auntie Jean would love to see you.”
I looked at them both. Mum was grinning, but her eyes were pleading. She hadn’t stepped over the threshold into my room.
“Sorry, Mum.”
Dad cleared his throat.
“Right, well, give us a call if you need us. We won’t be long. Come on, Sheila. We don’t want to be late.”
I’m not sure he realized that I hadn’t used a phone in months. Mum gave me a feeble smile and closed the door. I got up from the bed and listened to them talking quietly outside my room.
“Come on, don’t get yourself all upset, Sheila. Let’s just go and have a nice time, forget our worries for a bit.”
“We’re losing him, Brian. Did you see his face? He’s terrified! Our little boy is so frightened and there’s nothing we can do.”
“He’ll work it out. He’s tough, remember? Remember how good he was after we lost Callum?”
They slowly walked downstairs and I heard the front door closing behind them. I stood there for a while, in the middle of my room, listening to the silence as I wiped away my tears.
“What’s wrong with me, Lion?” I said. “Why can’t I stop?”
The Wallpaper Lion stared back at me blankly.
I bent down and took out my secret box and pulled on a pair of gloves (two pairs remaining) and then closed my window. I got some antibacterial solution from the bathroom and gave my notebook a light spray and wiped it with a clean cloth. Dad had left the letter on my desk and I peeked over the folds, not wanting to touch it.
… for your son Matthew Corbin to attend a psychology assessment with Dr. Rhodes at 10 a.m. on Tuesday, 29 July …
I picked the letter up by a corner and, standing at the top of the stairs, let it flutter down to land on the mat by the front door. I then went to the bathroom and washed my hands twelve times.
From: Melody Bird
To: Matthew Corbin
Subject: You Fainted/Verrucas!
Hi Matty!
I heard you fainted at the doctor’s. Well, actually I saw you.
Flat out on the carpet.
Are you OK? I told you, you didn’t look good.
Melody x
PS. Oh and there is good news about my verrucas! I didn’t have to have them burnt off after all, but I’ve got to use a cream every day, which is a real pain.
I stared at the screen for a while, not sure how to reply. I decided polite but distant was probably best and began to type. On my right hand I wore one latex glove (three left) and I kept my other hand in midair, not touching anything. I was trying to ration them and only wear one at a time.
To: Melody Bird
From: Matthew Corbin
Subject: Fainting
I’m not sure how you got my email address, but thank you for your concern. I’m fine now, thanks. I just got a bit overheated.
Matthew
PS. Glad to hear about the verrucas.
I clicked Send and stood up. There was a lot of noise outside. Mr. Charles was attempting to water his front yard as Casey and Teddy ran around him, jumping through the spray and squealing every time they got a blast of cold water. The old man was bright red and trying to get them to calm down, but the more he shouted, the faster they hurtled around and around. Old Nina’s lamp in the front room window of the Rectory was barely visible in the bright sunlight. I could just make out a soft, orange glow.
There was a trumpet blast as another message pinged into my inbox.
To: Matthew Corbin
From: Melody Bird
Subject: Summer Vacation
That’s good to hear! I am so happy it’s summer vacation. Although you’ve already had tons of time off, haven’t you? But at least you’re off “officially” now and not just because there’s something wrong with you. Whatever that might be … I’m not being nosey! I’ll come over and see you later, OK?
Mel. x
PS. Your mum gave my mum your email address at the doctor’s. I think she thinks you need a friend, and anyone who hates Jake is fine with me!
She typed like she talked.
To: Melody Bird
From: Matthew Corbin
Subject: Busy
I’m really busy at the moment trying to catch up on schoolwork, so there’s no need to come over. And I have plenty of friends, thank you. And I don’t hate Jake. I just don’t like him very much—there is a difference.
M.
There was no way I wanted a verruca-ridden girl in my house.
Mr. Charles was yelling outside.
“Casey, stop it right now! Look at the mess you’ve made.”
He hosed the path, washing away a patchwork of child-sized, muddy footprints. Teddy squealed as the water sprayed his ankles; he did a funny little jump and then ran around the side of the house toward the back. Mr. Charles blasted the muddy remains of the footprints down the path to the front gate. While he wasn’t looking, Casey stepped into a muddy puddle that had settled at the edge of the yard. The back of her pink summer dress was freckled with dirt as she walked brown footprints along where Mr. Charles had just cleaned. Seeing this, he threw the hose onto the lawn and grabbed her by the tops of her arms.
“I told you to stop it, didn’t I? Why won’t you do as you’re told, you naughty girl?”
His hands left behind two bright red strips like raw bacon. Casey looked as if she was going to cry, but instead she scowled at him, refusing to allow any tears to escape.
“Now, be a good girl and go and play,” he said, patting her three times on the head. “And keep an eye on your brother, don’t let him near that pond!”
He picked the hose up again and continued washing the path. Casey folded her arms and went around to the backyard.
Saturday, July 26th. 12:15 p.m. Bedroom. Cloudy and hot.
Number of toys on next door’s lawn = 17
Number of children in next door’s yard = 2
Number of children glaring at me from next door’s yard = 1
Teddy was sitting cross-legged on the grass studying the bottom of his muddy foot. He scraped at the skin with his fingernail and inspected the dirt, then swapped to the other foot. Casey had been dancing, holding the edge of her pink dress, tiptoeing here and there in her imaginary ballet show. As she pirouetted she suddenly stopped and glared up at me. Her mouth smacked up and down and she started to laugh.
“Look, Teddy! It’s the goldfish! Look! The Goldfish Boy is in his tank!”
Teddy stood and gazed toward my window, his eyes squinting in the bright sunlight. A big smile spread across his face and he looked about ready to raise an arm to wave at me, but I quickly ducked out of sight, my heart pounding in my chest.
The sky from the office window looked almost turquoise, like the sky from a manga cartoon. It was going to be another hot day.