The Day I Was Erased

by Lisa Thompson

  “Well, well, well, Maxwell Beckett. Don’t you have a lot of explaining to do.” She looked like she could breathe fire, but something about my face made hers soften a little.

  “Mrs Lloyd. I’m sorry I ruined everything with the TV company and the ball. I … I was just so upset I couldn’t come. I’m so sorry.”

  Mrs Lloyd took a step closer.

  “This can’t carry on, Maxwell. Your behaviour was reckless and dangerous and it has ruined a perfectly nice evening for a lot of people. I’m going to have a serious think over the weekend about how we can resolve your continuing bad behaviour.”

  I nodded.

  “Come and see me first thing on Monday morning. I’ll need your parents to be there too. Both of them,” she said.

  “I know, Miss. I understand. I’ll see you on Monday.”

  I turned and walked back to my family.

  On Monday, I went straight to Mrs Lloyd’s office with Mum and Dad. Mr Howard was there as well and everyone’s faces looked tense and like they were about to shout at me. I wasn’t feeling very hopeful. Mrs Lloyd started by reading from my school file which they must keep in the office. It included a record of all the trouble I’d been in over the past year. It went on and on and on. I even saw Mr Howard flinch a couple of times. Mum let out a huff now and then and Dad glared at the carpet.

  “Do you have anything to say, Maxwell?” she said, closing the file. “Do you really hate school that much that you’d spoil every day that you are here?”

  I cleared my throat. I’d been thinking about what I was going to say all over the weekend. I’d told Charlie how I felt, and I told Mum, Dad and Bex how much they mean to me. And now it was the school’s turn. I cleared my throat.

  “I don’t hate school,” I said. Mrs Lloyd rolled her eyes but Mr Howard leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, his fingers pressed to his mouth.

  “In fact, I like school. School is my ‘normal’. It’s my place to get away from … from the shouting at home.”

  I felt Mum flinch. There was no way I could look at her or Dad. I cleared my throat again. “I know I haven’t been the best pupil or the best friend, or the best son. But I do care. I care about my friends and my family, and even my school. I just … I just sometimes do stuff to ruin it. You know?”

  Mr Howard was the only one nodding. I carried on.

  “School is a place where things are OK. Where there aren’t two people shouting across my head or trying to ruin each other’s lives or sticking stupid sticky notes on to their food.”

  Mrs Lloyd glanced at Mum and Dad but they didn’t say anything.

  “And sometimes when I come to school I feel like I’m a bottle of fizzy drink. All evening or all weekend I’ve been trying to keep the lid on the bottle, but that bottle … that bottle feels like it has been inside a washing machine and it’s fit to burst. Do you know what I mean?”

  I looked at my teachers. I don’t think they really did know how it was to feel like a bottle of fizzy drink, but they both nodded. I took a deep breath.

  “And then, when I get to school, I sit back and WHOOOSSHHH! It’s like … it’s like the lid just blows off … just like that. And all my thoughts and worries and upsets … well, they all come shooting out and I can’t … I can’t get the lid back on again.”

  I noticed that I was twisting my hands together and it kind of hurt so I stuffed them underneath my knees. Mrs Lloyd’s face didn’t look quite as angry and Mr Howard was pressing his lips together. Dad cleared his throat but didn’t speak.

  “I’m sorry for everything I’ve done, Mrs Lloyd.” My voice began to wobble then, so I stopped there.

  My head teacher sat back in her chair.

  “I think…” she said. Her eyes looked up at the ceiling for a moment. She seemed to be struggling to find the right words. “I think that you are a clever, intuitive and understanding young boy, Maxwell. And I think … I think Mr Howard and I need to have a good chat with your parents about how we can try and help with all this frustration you’re feeling. How does that sound?”

  I opened my mouth and closed it again. Mr Howard leaned forward.

  “I think we can all work together and learn something from each other here. Us as teachers, your parents and you. Isn’t that right, Mr and Mrs Beckett?”

  I looked at Mum and Dad. They looked awkward but they nodded.

  “Does that mean I can stay at this school?”

  Mrs Lloyd started fiddling with some papers on her desk.

  “You’ll still be punished for what happened at the ball – we can’t let that go. But we won’t be taking things further than that. Now, get yourself off to your first lesson and … be good. OK, Maxwell?”

  I nodded back, trying not to grin too hard as it kind of hurt my cheeks.

  My punishment for turning the electric off at the ball was to help Mr Farrow the caretaker with his duties during break times for a few weeks. I walked around the playground picking up litter while wearing an orange jacket. The other kids thought it was hilarious and shouted stuff at me, but whenever I felt like shouting back I thought about being erased and kept quiet. I also had one of those little grabbers and after a while I quite enjoyed spotting a sweet wrapper, picking it up with the claw and putting it in my bin bag. I found I was concentrating on what I was doing so much that the bell went before I knew it.

  I was also on “report”, which meant I had to get a card signed after each class to say if I’d behaved myself during the lesson or not and if I got any negative points then I would be back in Mrs Lloyd’s office. I knew I wouldn’t get into trouble again. I was hoping to try and talk to Charlie but he was at a hospital appointment getting his nose checked again so that made me feel a whole lot worse.

  On my way home from school I prepared myself for Mum and Dad to launch into another argument after the meeting with Mrs Lloyd. I knew they’d be blaming each other for everything, especially the bit about me feeling like a fizzy bottle. But when I got in everything was quiet. Dad was in the kitchen making dinner and Mum was sitting at the table on her laptop. They weren’t talking but it didn’t feel tense like they’d had a big row or anything. It just felt like they’d run out of things to argue about.

  Monster came over to greet me like he always did, wagging his tail round and round and I gave him a longer cuddle than usual.

  “Someone posted this earlier,” said Dad, handing me an envelope.

  I stared at the envelope which had MAXWELL written on the front. I recognized the handwriting immediately. I was going to go to my room to open it when Dad suddenly put his arms around me and squeezed me.

  “We love you, Maxwell. We both love you very much indeed.”

  I squeezed him back, and then I went over to Mum and gave her a big hug too. She held my face in between her hands.

  “We’re very proud of you, Maxwell. We might not show it sometimes, but we really are,” she said. And she gave me a wet kiss on my cheek which I quickly wiped off.

  I kicked my shoes off and ran upstairs with the letter.

  I dived on to my bed, ripped the envelope open and began to read.

  Dear Maxwell

  You are right. You are a terrible friend.

  You’ve lied to me, you’ve laughed at me behind my back, and you’ve made me feel like you’re only friends with me because no one else wants you. And let’s face it - who would be stupid enough to be mates with you?

  I stopped reading for a moment. I didn’t think I could face being told how awful I was any more. I took a glimpse at the next line, then carried on.

  But then there are things about you that I kind of like. When you’re not messing around you can really make me laugh. I like it when I sometimes tell you something I’ve learnt, which I think you might be interested in, and you look happy because you seem pleased that I’ve decided to tell you rather than someone else. And also, you make me feel like I know more stuff than anyone else in the world, and that makes me feel kind of good.

&n
bsp; I’ve been to the hospital today, to get my nose checked (it’s fine by the way) and while I was waiting to be seen I decided that I’m going to give you another chance. Another chance at being my friend.

  So, I’m writing to ask you - can you try and not mess it up this time?

  And can you stop calling me Charlie Geek? It really gets on my nerves.

  From your long-suffering friend,

  Charlie Kapoor

  I smiled to myself as I folded the letter and put it into the envelope again. Charlie was back.

  About six weeks after I returned to my real life, everything changed.

  Dad moved out.

  My parents sat with me and Bex one evening and talked about how they both loved us very much indeed, but they didn’t love each other as much as they used to. They said that they were tired of arguing with each other and that it wasn’t fair on us and that they were both sorry that it had been going on for so long. They’d come to an agreement about money and Dad could afford to move into a little flat. He wasn’t moving too far and we’d still see him a lot. They said there might come a time where we’d have to sell the house, but if that ever happened they promised that we wouldn’t go far and that we could stay at the same school. Bex cried when they told us. Mum gave her a big hug, but she didn’t say anything. I felt sad, but OK. I’d seen how happy Mum had been when I’d been erased and, even though I’d much rather she loved Dad again, I wanted to see her smile. And in this world, Dad had a job that he loved so I hoped that he would be all right too.

  We saw Dad for one evening during the week and every other weekend. At first he didn’t seem to take it very well. His flat was tiny and smelled a bit and he didn’t make any effort to keep it tidy. Also, when he dropped us home he’d hug us for a really long time. It was like he didn’t want to let us go. But after a few weeks I noticed that he’d bought some lamps for the flat and put some pictures on the wall. He also joined a squash league at the sports club and apparently he was quite good at it. He said he’d take me and Bex one day and show us how to play. When he came to pick us up he used to wait outside in the car, but last weekend, while I was still packing my bag, Mum invited him in and I could hear them talking in the kitchen. I came down and they were drinking coffee and Mum was laughing about something Dad had said. I hadn’t seen them like that since … well, I couldn’t even remember. The fridge was now a sticky-label-free zone which suited me fine.

  Charlie Geek and I were mates again, although I never call him Charlie Geek any more; I kept my word about that. And I try to be a really good friend. Sometimes he’ll go off on a ramble in class about something he knows loads about, and everyone will groan and moan about him being boring. Normally I’d have elbowed him in the ribs and told him to stop being an idiot, but now I glare at everyone else and they eventually shut up.

  It took him a while to trust that I was being a true friend and I think he started to believe it when we had hockey in PE one day. Mrs Allen began the lesson by teaching us how to dribble with the ball, but Charlie couldn’t control it and he kept tripping up over his stick. We had to get into teams for a match and it was down to me and Adel to pick our players. Charlie was, by far, the worst in the class, but I picked him first which made everyone gasp, including him. He might have been a rubbish player but there isn’t anybody else I’d rather have on my side.

  One day I’ll tell him about what happened, maybe when we’re old men, sitting on a bench drinking tea from a flask. Maybe then I’ll tell him how he helped to bring me home.

  I still saw Reg every few days. He struggled with his memory more and more and it took me a lot longer to explain who I was. On some days he just didn’t understand who I was at all, so I left him alone then. I didn’t want to upset him. When he was having a good day I carefully asked him about the old life that he’d left behind, although I never mentioned him being erased. One day in the winter, we were sitting around his gas fire in the lounge and he began to talk.

  “I had a very peculiar dream last night, Maxwell,” he said. “It was about a young man who had lost someone he really, deeply loved.”

  I held tightly on to my mug of hot chocolate as he spoke in his soft voice.

  “Now this man,” continued Reg. “Well, he found it very hard to live without this other person in his life. He thought everything was pretty pointless, and then one day he just disappeared…”

  Reg poofed his hand in the air. I stayed silent.

  “But he hadn’t disappeared completely. He was in the same surroundings but nobody knew who he was. He got a chance to see this strange world, a world in which he had never been born, and he saw the differences he had made to his friends and his family’s lives. And then he realized something.”

  Reg’s voice shook a little.

  “What, Reg?” I whispered. “What did he realize?”

  The old man turned towards me, his brow creased with lines.

  “He realized he wanted to go home,” he said. He took a deep sigh and put his hot chocolate down on the table.

  “Do you want to go home, Reg?” I asked, putting my hand on his arm.

  He looked at me and his bottom lip trembled.

  “I–I don’t know,” he said. “I’m frightened.”

  If Reg went back to his old life then he’d be returning to the worst moment ever. Emily would still be gone but there would be people around him who loved him. There was Alice for a start – Emily’s sister. And Alice’s husband, Jack. Reg had said how they’d all been friends together. They were there and he wouldn’t be on his own any more. I put my drink down and faced him.

  “Someone told me something a while ago, Reg. It didn’t make much sense to me at the time, but I think it does now,” I said. “It was about a brick.”

  Reg stared at me. I tried to get what I wanted to say straight in my head. It was important that I got it right. I took a deep breath and began.

  “This person told me that if you’re going through a bad time in your life it can sometimes feel like you’re carrying a brick around in your pocket.”

  Reg blinked as I carried on.

  “Some days that brick will feel so heavy in your pocket that you can barely move. Every step takes so much effort and it can feel almost impossible to do anything.”

  Reg nodded his head slowly.

  “But some days, Reg … some days you will still have that brick in your pocket but you won’t even notice it. It’ll always be there, but sometimes it won’t feel as heavy. Does that make any sense?”

  He didn’t say anything but his eyes looked watery. I watched him for a moment and then I dropped my head. I thought I had said the right thing but the story Dad had told me about the brick sounded silly when I said it out loud. I took another deep breath and looked back up at him.

  “Reg, I need you concentrate as I tell you something. I’m going to tell you how to get home. How to get home to the people you love. Then, if you feel the time is right, you can go back to the exact moment you left. Do you understand?”

  He nodded.

  “Right,” I said, sitting forward on my chair. “You know the wooden egg in the cabinet?” I said.

  And then I told him.

  Charlie and I started going to science club on Fridays after school. I really didn’t want to go at first, as the only time I’d ever stayed late at school was for detention and it seemed weird staying late out of choice. But Charlie gave me one of his looks, so I promised to give it a try.

  Science club turned out to be brilliant. Charlie was right. You got to do really cool experiments like firing rockets using old drinks bottles, vinegar and baking soda.

  One Friday we walked home after science club and Charlie tried to explain something about the speed of sound to me. I wasn’t really sure what he was talking about but I nodded and tried to keep up. It was interesting to start with but I couldn’t grasp it all in my head. I think he must have realized I was struggling because he gave up.

  “Maybe I’ll tell you abou
t it all another day, eh?” he said and I smirked.

  “Sorry, Charlie. My head is still full of stuff from science club. I don’t think I can fit anything else in it.” He smiled at me.

  “I’m glad we sorted everything out between us,” he said. “You’re all right now, you know? You’re not angry all the time like you used to be.”

  I nodded back but didn’t say anything.

  “And you’ve stopped calling me Charlie Geek so that’s a bonus too,” he said. “Anyway, see ya later, Maxwell.”

  And then he did that funny walk he did when he tried to go fast but without actually running as he headed off towards his home.

  I turned down Reg’s road. I usually popped in to see him on a Friday but I wasn’t going to stay long as it was getting late. Before school this morning Mum had suggested we have a pizza and film night, just me and her, as Bex was going for a sleepover at Maddy’s. I told her I’d like that.

  I walked in through Reg’s kitchen door like I always did and switched on the kettle.

  “Only me, Reg! Do you want a cup of tea?” I shouted through to the lounge.

  There was no answer but I got his mug out of the cupboard and put a teabag in it anyway.

  “Mum said would you like to come to ours for lunch on Sunday?” I called. “She thought you might like to…”

  I walked into the lounge and stopped. Reg’s armchair was empty.

  “Reg?” I went to the hallway and checked his bedroom and the bathroom. He wasn’t anywhere.

  “Reg? Where are you?” I called again.

  The kettle in the kitchen clicked off and the boiling water rumbled on for a few seconds and then stopped.

  I looked around the lounge and spotted a piece of folded paper propped up against his portrait. On it was one word in shaky handwriting.