I Am the Wallpaper

by Mark Peter Hughes

  I put my hand on Tish’s arm to keep her from running, and then I pulled out Richard’s box again. Inside were a couple of little red tubes and a gray sphere about the size of a golf ball. I picked out one of the tubes.

  “Floey, what are you doing?”

  From my other pocket I pulled out the lighter.

  “Get the camera ready,” I whispered.

  Her eyes darted from me to the beach and back again. She looked uncertain, but she raised Gary’s camcorder and turned it on. I found the string on the little tube, and keeping it low to hide the flame, I flipped the lighter and lit the fuse. Then I threw it as hard as I could. The firecracker landed in the middle of the clearing, hissing and spitting.

  From the water, the man said, “What the hell is that?”

  After a few seconds a bright green line shot into the air and burst over our heads in a brilliant umbrella of color, the embers floating down over the water.

  As I lit the second tube, one of the women called out, “Tom, there’s somebody here!”

  The second one landed pretty near the first. After a few hisses and sparks it shot up even higher. By the time it burst into a fluorescent pink ball, I’d tossed the last firecracker, the gray sphere, which banged and cracked like gunfire.

  That’s when all hell broke loose.

  The short-haired lady screamed. The man with the gut, the one they’d called Tom, lunged toward the beach just as I switched on Gary’s portable spotlight, which I’d pulled from my backpack. The reeds sprang to life, suddenly shaking and moving like a big, frightened animal that had been rudely woken up. Terrified boys appeared from the grass, scrambling to their feet, pure panic on their faces. There were more of them than I’d imagined, twenty or so, maybe more. I tried to move the light around so Tish’s camera could catch each of them.

  Just at that moment, the reeds across the clearing opened up and the missing man stepped out, bigger and broader-shouldered than I’d remembered, and very, very angry.

  “There they are!” shouted the huge naked man. “Come out here, you little bastards!”

  Tom and the giant man reached the reeds at about the same time. That’s when the spy club really started screaming. Everything happened in a matter of seconds. I held up the spotlight, doing my best to shine it on the boys and not the naked people. The men fought and slashed their way through the tall grass toward us, first chasing after the nearest boys, the ones sitting at the front. I knew it wouldn’t be long before the two enraged men would get close enough to Tish and me and we’d have to hightail it out of there. The whole place was complete chaos. It was as if two furious grizzlies had come growling into the clearing. The petrified boys could hardly scramble away fast enough. Shouting and crying, some of them ran into and over each other to get back to the main beach or into the woods.

  Tish and I escaped the same way we’d come in. Once we reached the road, we ran down the hill and past the cemetery. A couple of boys on bikes shot past us, huffing and puffing. When we reached the park at the end of my street we felt safe, so we stopped. I set the heavy backpack down in front of a bush. I needed to catch my breath.

  “Did you see their faces!” gasped Tish, dropping down to the ground. “I don’t know if I’ll ever have that much fun again as long as I live!”

  “I saw them,” I said. I was still breathing pretty heavily, so I rested against a tree. I hoped all this wouldn’t discourage the Old Naked People from ever skinny-dipping hand in hand again.

  That would be a tragedy.

  Tish leaned back on her elbows. “Just wait until tomorrow when those guys go onto the Internet to look for your diary but they see themselves instead!” She laughed so hard that tears streamed down her face.

  All of a sudden, we heard a scream from down the street.

  It sounded like Richard’s voice.

  Tish grabbed the backpack and we crept back to the edge of the road to see if we could make out what was happening in the darkness. Around the corner, across the street from the cemetery, were a nursery school and a church. At the other end of the school parking lot there were four or five shadows holding flashlights.

  And in the middle of the circle of flashlights stood Richard.

  chaptersixteen:

  in which my cousin

  takes a punch

  Billy grabbed Richard by the arm. Richard struggled, but with the big gorilla holding him and the other boys all around him there wasn’t much point.

  “Hilarious,” Billy said in that high voice of his. “You think you’re pretty funny, Richard, don’t you?”

  Richard looked terrified. He didn’t speak.

  “Let him go, Billy!” I called. “It was my idea, not his. He didn’t know anything about it.”

  With his free hand, Billy took out his flashlight and shined it on my face. The other boys did the same. For a moment, I couldn’t see anything.

  “Sure he didn’t,” Billy called back. And then, dragging Richard along, he started walking toward me. “Where’s that camera, Floey? Hand it over.”

  In this strange, scary moment, with Billy coming for me, a crowd of angry eleven-year-olds staring at me from the shadows and blinding bright lights shining directly in my face, I realized that in a bizarre way, I’d gotten what I thought I wanted. Everyone was looking at me. A lot of people knew who I was. In a way, the New Floey was a big success. Only, I didn’t want what she wanted anymore. All I wanted was for everyone to leave Richard alone. To leave me alone. I wanted to fade away to nothing.

  I wanted to be the wallpaper again.

  I didn’t move. “Why did you watch me from your window, Billy?” I called out finally. “What’s the matter with you? Why did you tell your stupid spy club to follow me around? Why won’t you leave me alone?”

  “You should know,” he said, still coming. The other shadow-boys were right behind him. “After all, like you say, we’re not separate. It’s all Zen!” He laughed. “If I’m so connected to you and you to me, why do you have to ask? One hand clapping, right?”

  “Why don’t you answer me? You know that doesn’t make any sense!”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Tish asked from behind me. “He likes you, Floey.”

  If she hadn’t turned her flashlight onto Billy’s face, I probably wouldn’t have seen it turn red. It glowed like a ripe tomato.

  “Problem is,” Tish continued, “this is all you can think of to get Floey’s attention, isn’t it, Billy? You’re too stupid and insecure to try anything else. Right, Billy?”

  His big gorilla mouth tightened.

  I didn’t know whether to laugh or scream.

  “Get that light off me!” he said, walking faster. He was in the middle of the street and only a few cemetery rows away. He pointed his flashlight back at Tish. “And shut your mouth, Chunky Monkey!”

  But that’s when Richard bit down on Billy’s hand.

  Hard.

  Billy stopped. His scream sounded like a little girl’s. “Ooowwooowwww!”

  Out of his grasp, Richard tried to run. Unfortunately, he didn’t get farther than the grass at the edge of the sidewalk before the other boys grabbed him and dragged him back. I didn’t know whether to be mad at him for being so stupid or proud of him for finally standing up to Billy.

  “Keep him down!” one of the boys said. Some of the others pushed Richard and held his face to the ground.

  “I’m bleeding!” Billy shouted. “I think he bit right through to the bone!”

  He put his knuckle in his mouth and sucked on it. After a moment, he walked up to Richard, flexing his fingers. “That was stupid. You didn’t think I was just going to let you get away with that, did you?” And then to his friends he said, “Stand him up.”

  Tish screamed.

  “No!” I shouted.

  But Billy swung his fist back and belted Richard a good one, right in the stomach. Richard gasped and fell back to his knees.

  “Leave him alone!” I shouted. “He’s half your size!”
r />   Billy turned back to me and smiled. “No. Not till I get that camera.”

  “Okay, okay!” I said. “Leave him alone and I’ll give you the disk!”

  Billy considered my offer and nodded. “All right, Fabulous Floey of the Future. Deal. Give me the disk and I’ll let him go.”

  But that’s when Richard finally said something. At first I wasn’t sure it was him, but it was. “Don’t do it, Floey,” he said.

  Billy turned and glared at him. I thought he might hit him again.

  “I don’t want you to,” Richard continued, trying to pull himself up. “Let him beat me up, I don’t care. Don’t let him have the disk.”

  I stared at him. After the way he’d cried that afternoon, I didn’t think he had it in him. Still, I wasn’t going to let Billy beat him up.

  “The disk isn’t that important, Richard.”

  Tish had the backpack, and she beat me to it. She unzipped it, pulled out what she needed and left the bag near me while she walked across the street to Billy. “Here,” she said, glaring at him. “Take it. Now let him go.”

  He examined the little piece of plastic with his flashlight. “Good,” he said. “This is good.”

  A moment later, he and the other shadowy boys from the spy club were running away down the street, shouting and laughing in the darkness.

  And then they were gone.

  I went over to Richard. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he said, waving me off him. “He just winded me for a second, that’s all.” He didn’t look fine. In fact, he looked like he might wet his pants. He stood up and brushed himself off. “I can’t believe you guys just did that for me.”

  “I can’t either,” Tish said. “You didn’t deserve it.”

  For a while, the only sound was from the crickets. I wondered if we really were alone now. The spy club had come and gone so quickly. But eventually I picked up the backpack and we walked home. None of us said another word.

  Naturally, I was disappointed with the evening. True, since the boys knew I was on to them, the Web site was finished. But now that they had the disk, I felt like they’d gotten away with something. I’d wanted those embarrassing images of terrified spy club boys to be the final pictures on the Web site, their grand farewell. It only seemed fair.

  As soon as we got to my backyard again, just before I turned off my flashlight, I heard Tish giggle.

  “What are you laughing about?” I whispered.

  “I have a secret,” she whispered back. She came closer so that even if there was somebody else listening, only Richard and I would hear.

  We leaned in close.

  “I switched the disks.”

  She pulled a disk out of her pants pocket and held it up to us. Richard and I stared at it, still not sure what she meant.

  “This is the one from the beach,” she said.

  “So …,” I said, just beginning to understand, “does that mean Billy has …”

  She nodded and giggled again.

  “They have the one of Frank Sinatra.”

  I imagined Billy and his friends standing around a television. Instead of watching the video of themselves running away from the angry naked people on the beach, they’d see the ferret.

  In his litter box.

  Making a big ferret turd.

  I tried to imagine the expressions on their faces.

  Before we could sneak back into the house through the window, we had to wait until we stopped laughing. Even Richard.

  chapterseventeen:

  in which lillian is the life

  of yet another party

  or

  two messages

  The video images from the beach were downloadable by the next afternoon. One thing I’ll say for Richard—he really knew what he was doing. I made sure he blurred out the naked people. They didn’t deserve that kind of exposure. This was my final note on the Web site:

  To all my devoted fans,

  I trust you enjoyed your little glimpse into my world. My only hope is that through sharing this time with you, I was able to bring even a little color and light into your own dull, dreary, empty lives. Thanks for your interest, but as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. You can go back to your video games now.

  In a way, I’ll miss you.

  But not really.

  Sincerely,

  The Fabulous Floey Packer

  Richard seemed to like that. He even laughed, which said a lot, considering he knew he couldn’t go outside anymore. I almost felt sorry for him.

  Almost.

  In the last week of my cousins’ visit, my mother was still mad about my hair. For two days she wouldn’t even speak to me; we communicated through Post-it notes. But eventually she got over it. Tish was at my heels almost all the time. She wanted to do whatever I did, which was too bad for her because I didn’t have any friends anymore, so I didn’t have much of a life. We played cards and went for bike rides and watched movies. Sometimes, when we were feeling charitable, we even let Richard join us.

  I was dreading Friday. The plan was, Aunt Sarah would fly in from Alaska and spend the night at our house and then she, Richard and Tish would catch a flight home Saturday evening. But, I consoled myself, once they were gone it would mean no more making breakfasts, cleaning bedrooms or babysitting. Soon my life could go back to normal.

  Only, I was no longer sure what that meant. After all, I couldn’t talk to Azra or Wen ever again. I dreaded going back to school at the end of the summer. I’d have to make a whole new set of friends. I’d also have to wonder, I supposed, which ones had seen the Web site.

  Bright and wild like fire. Ha.

  Friendless and alone like a pathetic loser was more like it.

  A man asked a Zen master, “How does an enlightened one return to the ordinary world?” He answered, “A broken mirror never reflects again. Fallen flowers never go back to the branches.”

  If that was anybody, it was me.

  When Aunt Sarah showed up at the terminal at Logan, I hardly recognized her. She wore hiking boots and a backpack and had a raccoon tan from wearing sunglasses on mountaintops. Other than the area around her eyes, she was completely orange. The outdoorsy look didn’t suit her sourpuss face.

  “Hello, my darlings,” she said, squeezing first Richard and then Tish. “I’m so glad you met me here. You don’t know how much I’ve missed you both.” She put her hand on my mother’s cheek. “Grace, it’s so lovely to see you. How can I thank you? You have no idea what this trip meant for me. I have a completely new outlook on life.”

  To me she just said, “Is that you, Floey?” She stared at my hair.

  Then she handed me her giant backpack to carry for her.

  At home, Ma made me lug the enormous backpack up to the house and into her room. Aunt Sarah would be sleeping with my mother. I dumped her stuff on the bed and nearly crashed into her as I left the room. She smiled, but it was a fake smile. An I-don’t-like-you-and-we-both-know-it smile.

  What was wrong with the woman?

  I stepped around her and marched toward my room, where I intended to hide until the following night. But then I changed my mind. There was no point in living like this. Maybe she was going to be unreasonable, but I didn’t want any part of it. I turned around.

  Floey Packer didn’t hide anymore.

  Aunt Sarah was about to unzip her pack when I marched back in. She straightened when she saw me.

  We stood face to face.

  “Aunt Sarah,” I said. “I’m sorry that the birthday thank-you note Azra sent you hurt your feelings. Even though I didn’t write it, I still should have called you or sent another note to clear it up. I’m sorry I didn’t. But I still don’t think you have any right to jump to conclusions about me, and you definitely shouldn’t treat me like I’m some kind of delinquent when you don’t even know me. That’s rude and ignorant.”

  She narrowed her eyes, her hands on her hips. “Are you finished?”

 
I tried to think of something else to say but I couldn’t. “Yes,” I said, a little less sure of myself all of a sudden.

  I thought she was going to lash out at me, maybe threaten to say something to my mother. But that’s when Ma called me from the kitchen. “Floey! Come help me, please!”

  Aunt Sarah kept glaring at me. “You better go, then,” she said.

  So I left.

  For the rest of the day, she and I pretended the whole thing had never happened.

  Lillian and Helmut came home later that night, exhausted and happy. Lillian screamed with laughter when she saw my new hair. “What happened to you, Floey? You look like a big purple cabbage!”

  Personally, I’d had enough with the vegetable comments.

  The sleeping arrangements were kind of ridiculous because we didn’t have room for everyone. But my sister insisted on sleeping at home.

  “I’m really moving away now, don’t you get it? I’m moving to New York on Monday and I’ll never ever live here ever again. Of course I don’t want to stay in a hotel! Are you kidding?”

  So Lillian and her new husband spent the first night after their honeymoon on our living room sofa. With the pillows off the back it’s kind of a deep sofa, but still I don’t think it could have been comfortable for the two of them.

  Since Aunt Sarah and my cousins were flying home Saturday night, my mother prepared a truckload of food. Saturday would be the only remaining time we would all be together, so she wanted to have a picnic.

  Saturday morning, I got up later than everyone else. Aunt Sarah was already packing Richard’s stuff, Helmut was relaxing in the yard and Lillian was glued to the bathroom mirror, getting ready to present herself. As far as I knew, she hadn’t actually phoned any of her friends to remind them she was back, but I knew, and she did too, that they’d be dropping by to see her today. While she brushed her hair and adjusted her makeup (she takes a looong time), I stood in the bathroom doorway and told her about my adventures: about Wen and Kim, Calvin, the Devil’s Coffeehouse, the Old Naked People, Dean Eagler, the Web site, even Wen and Azra. I didn’t tell her about Richard’s bed-wetting problem, though. I had a promise to keep.