by Phil Earle
It was the most animated I’d seen him in years.
“Not your finest moment, son.”
“I know, but it’s not like she gave me any choice, is it?”
“She only wants the best for you—”
“Don’t you dare say what you’re about to say,” I interrupted.
He looked at me quizzically.
“Don’t give me the line. The she’s your mom line. Not today, Dad.”
“Then what do you want me to say?”
“Say you’ll explain things to her. Tell her I’m only doing what everyone else my age does. Tell her she’s being ridiculous, that she needs to let me grow up. Do my own thing without her running behind me with a cushion in case I fall over.”
It was probably the most I’d said to Dad in months, and certainly the most honest thing I’d ever said. He was the only one who could put a stop to Mom and her meddling. The only one she would possibly listen to.
I watched my words sink in, saw his face twitch as he processed what he could do to help. Maybe this was it. The moment he stepped over the line and took my side. Just this once. That’s all I was asking.
“There’s nothing I can do.” He sighed, running his index finger along the cleaver’s blade.
“And that’s it, is it? That’s the full extent of your powers? Could you for once be a man and help me out, here? I’ll do anything, Dad. Just do me this one favor, will you?”
“I don’t think you have any right to ask favors of anyone right now. Not of me or your mom.”
“But you can see it, can’t you? What she’s doing to me? I’m a joke because of her. And it’s getting worse. I can’t go anywhere or do anything without her looming in the background. It’s not right, Dad—she’s not right.”
“She has her reasons, you kn—”
“Does she? Really? Then you need to tell me what they are, because I haven’t got the faintest idea why it always has to be like this.”
But it was pointless asking for answers. Despite the tension, despite the reprimands being dished out. To me it was the perfect time to get to the bottom of why all this was going on, but to them? I was persona non grata.
Dad’s shutters came crashing back down in ten seconds flat.
“Well, you’ll have plenty of time to work it out, won’t you? What with being grounded.”
And that was that. Off he slumped, back to the sanctuary of his kitchen, but not before throwing a long, concerned look up the stairs, where Mom was either seething, or weeping.
I wasn’t sure which was worse.
The duration of my grounding was vague.
Indefinite.
With no parole, and no TV, Internet, or video game access until I learned my lesson or turned thirty. Whichever came first.
I had visions of being an adult, sitting at the counter of Special Fried Nice in a sweater Mom had knitted me, still taking orders, still pedaling away on the rhino, dressed in fluorescent gear that had lost all its powers of reflection.
I was going to live a long, dull, and cushioned life if Mom had anything to do with it. I might live to a hundred and fifty, but I’d never venture out of my comfort zone again.
Days lasted decades.
My head replayed the events of the past few months on repeat, but no matter how many different ways I thought of telling Mom honestly about the skating, the result would’ve been the same. There was no way she would have let me do it.
I suppose that should’ve made me feel better, that she’d forced me into lying, but it didn’t help. I was banished to my room and my board locked up in a secret location. If she hadn’t burned it already, or sealed it in concrete and dumped it in the Atlantic Ocean.
The worst thing about the fallout, though, was that Mom didn’t seem satisfied with the punishment. If anything, her fussing got worse.
“There are going to be some changes going forward,” she announced late one afternoon. “Until you can be trusted, you’ll be chaperoned to and from school.”
My stomach flipped. “What? You’re kidding.”
“Do you see me smiling?”
I didn’t. Obviously.
“But what about Sinus?” I asked, even though we hadn’t walked together in weeks. “We always wait for each other.”
“Seeing as you got that death trap of a board from his family, I can only presume they were happy to deceive me too. You won’t be spending time with him. Not if I can help it.”
“So Dad’ll be dropping me off, then?”
She wagged her finger knowingly. “No. Your father will be too busy here to do that, and anyway, you know what a pushover he is. I’ll be picking you up and dropping you off every day. I’ll be waiting at three-forty p.m. in the teachers’ parking lot.”
“But that’s inside the gates,” I protested. “Everyone will see you. I’ll be a laughingstock.”
“Then you’ll understand how I feel, won’t you? You’ll understand the humiliation.” She fixed me with an icy glare. “In time I might trust you again, Charlie, but you will have to earn it.”
“So if I keep my nose clean I can go back to the ramp eventually?”
She slammed the counter sharply, and the whole house seemed to tremble.
“NO! You won’t set foot in that skate park again. Not if you want to keep me happy. Do you understand me?”
I nodded, the pain of her punishment bruising me more deeply than any fall ever could.
If Mom was one thing, she was true to her word, and so the next two weeks at school were hell on earth. She insisted on the ridiculous chaperoning, parking closer to the school doors with every passing day, just in case I tried to slip past her in a bid for freedom. It didn’t go unnoticed by the other kids—they laughed, pointed, and banged on the car roof as I climbed in. I feared them surrounding us, rocking the car until they turned it upside down.
All right, I was feeling paranoid. You go through that level of indignity and not feel the same way.
But it wasn’t unwarranted, the feeling of persecution. News of the argument at the ramp had gotten around. Some kids mocked me as I passed; others hunched over their cell phones, shoulders shaking with mirth. At first I didn’t realize what was going on, until one particularly huge older kid let me in on the magic.
“Dude, your mom is FIERCE!” He laughed. “Someone filmed her chewing you out at the ramp. She’s a monster!” I grabbed his phone as politely as I could, not wanting to look, but knowing that I had to.
And there we were, Mom going at me with even greater ferocity than I remembered. The sound quality wasn’t great, but you could still hear her ripping shreds off me above the distorted howls of the others. What scared me most, though, was the intensity in Mom’s face. She had no idea that the skaters were laughing as much at her as they were at me. She was being eaten alive by her own anger, totally oblivious that dozens of phones were filming her every word.
I wanted the earth to swallow me whole.
How many others had seen the video, or recorded their own version from a different angle?
How long till they had me doing a constant walk of shame as punishment? I felt my shins begin to throb nervously in anticipation.
Why was it that when the skating was going well, no one at school had a clue about me? I was still pretty much anonymous. But as soon as things went belly-up, everyone was in on the gag. The injustice felt overwhelming.
I was back where I’d started; in fact, it was worse, because now I didn’t even have Sinus on my side. I’d noticed him as the laughter followed me down the hallway, standing on the outside, watching the other kids take me apart, and he hadn’t been laughing. But at the same time, he hadn’t come over either, to tell me it would be all right, or even to take the heat himself. At least if he’d done that I’d have known we could be friends again.
It was a new low.
I couldn’t have got any lower.
A professional limbo dancer couldn’t have matched my minimal self-esteem. That’s how low thi
ngs were.
And you know what?
Things were about to get worse.
It started with a text message that brought good news.
I have an exam tonight, so can’t pick you up. You are to walk home. DO NOT go NEAR the park. I am trusting you. Mom.
It was the best news in weeks, but surprising, given the leash she’d had me on. I couldn’t keep up with this new course of hers. The others had always been regular days, always in the evening, but this one seemed to be unpredictable, scattershot. I wondered whether she was doing it on purpose, to keep my paranoia levels so dangerously high that I wouldn’t dare go near the ramp for fear of being found out again.
Whatever her motivation, I wasn’t moaning about it. A day without being picked up could only be a blessing, even if it meant walking home on my own.
But as afternoon lessons crawled on, my brain began to itch. The skate park lodged itself firmly in my thoughts. I hadn’t seen or stepped inside it since the argument with Mom, but suddenly, with a sliver of freedom in front of me, I could think of nothing else.
At first I stayed strong, telling myself to get home as she had ordered. After all, I didn’t even have a board anymore.
Even as I left the school gates, my intention was still to skulk slowly home. That was until I ran into Dan and Stan.
“Big man!” Stan hollered, despite being only three feet away.
“Where’ve you been hiding?”
“Hiding? I wish,” I answered. “Everyone’s got a photo of me on their phone these days. Didn’t you know?”
“Don’t take it to heart,” said Dan. “It’ll pass. Especially if you get yourself back to the ramp. Show off those skills again. Be the bigger man.”
I looked at them carefully, weighing just how sincere they were or weren’t being.
“You think?”
“Completely,” they echoed in unison.
“Everyone knows you can do it. One quick session without your mom there and that’s it. Old news…”
My gut told me to follow them. My resolve started to crumble.
“But I don’t have a board.”
They weren’t going to let that get in the way of me joining them. In fact, they seemed even more excited, practically begging me to follow them.
“Dude, people will lend you one,” said Dan. “They’ll be so stoked to see you back.”
“Follow us down there. By the time you get there we’ll have a board waiting,” said Stan. “And a welcome party too, if you’re lucky.”
It was everything I wanted to hear. Everything. And it shouted so loud that I couldn’t hear Mom anymore. There was only one place I was heading, and it definitely wasn’t home.
It was amazing to see the half-pipe towering in the middle of the park, as imposing and magnificent as it ever was. But in a way it upset me too, reminded me how much I’d missed not just the skating, but the acceptance I’d found while I was there.
The place was packed, as it always was after school, bodies arcing and spinning all over the place. My ears were filled with the clatter of wheels on asphalt, the odd cheer and holler as someone pulled off something deadly.
And all I could think was It could’ve been me. Maybe it still could?
I leaned on the railings, looking like a lovesick fool, or Sinus zooming in on a dreamy newly built wall. A shout rang out from inside the park. Dan, smiling, waving me inside.
“What took you so long?” He grinned as I stumbled through the gates, eyes flitting around for any sign of Mom hiding in the bushes. “You know Harry, don’t you?” He pointed to a boy next to him, huge peaked cap plastering his hair over most of his face. I could still see that he was grinning madly.
“Charlie! Where’ve you been, you animal?”
“Grounded by my mom,” I moaned, not wanting to sound like some snotty little kid, but failing miserably.
“What, all this time? It’s been weeks. When will she let you off?”
“No idea. Could be months. Years. When I leave home and get a job, probably.”
I noticed a few of the others had joined Dan and Harry now. Stan, of course, but some of the other kids too, who’d been there on the fateful day. I was shocked but pleased that they were happy to see me.
“Your mom is scary,” said Stan, who offered no complicated handshake today. “When did she get so crazy?”
I shrugged, though it felt weird to hear anyone but me badmouthing her.
“Funniest thing I ever saw,” said one boy.
“She should be on one of those reality programs. America’s Nuttiest Women or something.”
Mom was suddenly the hot topic, and a surge of jokes and insults rippled through the group, which was still growing.
There must have been twenty of them joining in now, which only added to my unease.
“Don’t know what I’d do if I had a mom like that….”
“I’d split. Get myself adopted….”
“Live with my grandmother….”
It felt like time to go, like I’d heard enough, but as I went to leave, I realized I was surrounded.
I tried not to freak out, especially as they were all smiling at me. But they weren’t happy smiles. They were “something’s going on” smiles. Smiles I’d seen before when people were about to beat the stuffing out of me. Before I had to walk between them as their legs started swinging.
“Me and the boys were sorry about what went on,” Dan said, sounding pleased with himself. “We’d heard through the grapevine that your mom had burned your board. So we’ve got a couple of things for you. Things that’ll sort you out. Get you back on the move while keeping your mom happy too.”
I didn’t like where this was going, or the sound of the rumors they were making up. She might have hidden the skateboard, but I knew she wouldn’t have burned it. Not really.
Snickers rolled around, pinching at me.
“First,” said Stan, “is this.”
And from the crowd out came a board. Well, a scruffy, chipped plank of wood really, with no trucks or wheels, and certainly no design sprayed on it. Even with a chunk of money and weeks of work, it was oceans away from the one I’d had. I didn’t know how to respond. Look ungrateful and it could all start again. So I pushed out my chest and tried to look pleased with it.
“Wow. I don’t know what to say. Really. You know, thanks. I’ll take it home now. Get to w—”
“But that does leave us with a problem,” interrupted Dan, almost cracking up. “We have to think of your mom in this. How she feels about you being safe. So we’ve racked our brains and come up with something special.”
Uh-oh. Here it comes.
“What is it?”
Stan stepped forward, wrapping an arm around my shoulder, but holding a bit too tight.
“Inspired by your mom. Not exactly state-of-the-art, but we think she’d still approve. Because she was talking about wrapping you in cotton, wasn’t she?”
I nodded, knowing I’d been the one to suggest it first.
Instinctively, I tried to step away, but came up against a crowd behind me. I was used to being towered over, but this was a whole new level.
“Well, that’d never work. Ironic, really, but cotton would rip as soon as you fell off. But our solution? Foolproof.”
And with that, the sun disappeared as an army of limbs pinned me to the ground.
All I could hear was laughter and the sound of tape ripping from a roll.
Whatever was happening, I doubted it would be quick.
And it certainly wouldn’t be good.
Fighting was pointless, but that didn’t stop me. I wasn’t trying to prove a point, didn’t believe I could force them off me.
I was just terrified: what else was I going to do?
There were so many of them pinning me down, though, that I could barely flex a finger, let alone a muscle, so after intense bursts of struggling that got me absolutely nowhere, I gave up, instead concentrating on fighting the tears that wanted to
escape. How far would they go? They weren’t going to strip me naked, were they? I didn’t even have the prospect of a teacher’s interruption to save me. Not this time.
It wasn’t like they were hurting me, or taunting me or anything like that, they were just laughing as they wrapped my legs in something that I couldn’t make out through the endless bodies. I tried to lift my head to see, but they wouldn’t let me, blindfolding me as they moved up to my chest and arms.
I found myself longing for a good old-fashioned walk of shame. At least that way I could see when it would end.
The only things I knew were that I was hot, that they were having a good time, and that I wanted it to be over as quickly as possible.
The noise of the tape got louder until it was screaming inside my brain, so deafening that I thought my ears would burst. I could feel it binding something hot and suffocating to my head, the noise echoing so badly that I thought I’d pass out. I tried to thrash with my head, but an octopus of arms stopped me until soon the only parts of my face left uncovered were my eyes, nose, and mouth.
There was a last muffled sound of delight as the tape stopped ripping, and one by one they stood back, allowing the sun to fall on me again.
Next came laughter, and pointing: phones were pulled out of pockets and photos taken. I was the center of attention—exactly where I’d always wanted to be. I was being punked, I supposed, and I hated it.
What was it they’d wrapped me in? I tried to raise my arms to my face, but it was impossible. They’d trapped them tightly against my sides.
They’d mummified me in something: my feet, legs, chest, and hands. They seemed to have made a helmet out of it too, as my head was already sweating.
Was it plastic wrap? It felt plasticky, but with panic and embarrassment engulfing me I couldn’t be sure.
I fought to get to my feet but couldn’t. My knees wouldn’t bend and my arms were useless. Instead, I rolled, or tried to, but even that was an effort. After rocking up some momentum, I felt my balance tip until I capsized onto my front like a human caterpillar, a hundred little popping noises bursting all around me. Another wave of laughter rolled over my head, and then I knew what they’d done to me.
