Just Call Me Spaghetti-Hoop Boy

by Lara Williamson

  “You’re right, there’s a problem,” Tiny Eric finally admits, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It’s my mum and dad. They say we need to make changes but I don’t want changes.”

  “What kind of changes?” I feel my hand reach out and brush his arm before I pull it away again. Tiny Eric says it’s a long story and I say I like long stories even though I don’t.

  “They think we should move house.” I blink because it doesn’t sound like that big a deal. People move all the time. “But I don’t want to because I like our house and our street. Babcia agrees that moving is the best idea but babcia doesn’t know everything. They just keep saying it’s for the best. But who is it best for? It’s not best for me.”

  “Oh,” I say.

  “It’s Dad.” Tiny Eric brings his hands out of his pockets and runs his fingers through his hair. “He’s got these plans. Dad’s changed.” His eyes glisten.

  “Oh,” I repeat.

  I look at Tiny Eric and say nothing. I know he’s probably just saying this about his dad because he’s angry. Now I realize why he was drawing his dad as a monster and why he drew himself crying in the window of a new house. It’s because he’s annoyed with his dad’s plans to move. But the thing is, Tiny Eric’s lucky that he’s got his mum and dad, and moving house is no big deal. At least he’ll still be with his family. I want to say this but Tiny Eric is already stalking ahead.

  I chase after him and thank him for coming to the hospital with me. “You’re a great Captain Encryptor,” I add.

  “I’d rather be myself really. I don’t want to pretend to be someone else,” he replies. “Anyway, Captain Encryptor is a silly name.” I don’t remind him that he came up with it. Tiny Eric grins and then gives me a friendly punch to the arm and I give him a friendly punch to the belly, and we laugh as we wander through the housing estates of Pegasus Park. At the corner of Kink Street, Tiny Eric says this is his stop. We look down the street and there’s a tall woman and a man standing beside her and he’s banging a board into Tiny Eric’s garden. It says FOR SALE. Tiny Eric pauses and then he says he’d better go because that’s his mum and she’ll be looking out for him. The weird thing is that Tiny Eric is a giant, but as he walks down the street he looks as small as a character from that book The Borrowers.

  When I return home, Mum’s at Bellybusters again and Velvet’s at a party with her friend. Dad’s alone in the kitchen and he’s got the same wooden sticks and plastic on the table as he had that time when he said he was making a wish. He brings out some nylon string and sets that on the table too, alongside a piece of cardboard. I sit down in the seat beside him.

  “What are you making exactly, Dad? You said it was a wish before, but I didn’t know what you meant.”

  “It’s a wish kite to be precise,” replies Dad. “I was talking to a man at Comic Con about how to get them right. You’re supposed to write a poem and tie it to the kite’s tail and then fly your kite as high as possible to make the wish come true.” Dad then disappears out of the kitchen before returning to the table with a ruler, scissors and a black marker pen.

  “I used to wish on birthday candles,” I offer.

  “Did any come true?”

  I reply, “Not yet, but they will.”

  Dad smiles and he says he’s sure they will and then I feel my face heat up and I change the subject and ask about Granddad Fred instead. I wind some of the nylon string around a stick.

  “He was a great dad,” explains Dad. “But I suppose everyone says stuff like that. He didn’t have the best start in the world but it didn’t make any difference to him – because, you know, it’s not always how you start the race in life, but how you continue running that counts.”

  I nod, but I’m not sure why we’re talking about races.

  Dad measures a red plastic bag and then cuts it using the scissors. “Granddad Fred was adopted.”

  I gulp. “Adopted?” I feel the watch, heavy on my wrist.

  “Yes, as a baby. He never knew who his mother was. Don’t look so surprised,” adds Dad, taking two thin sticks and forming a cross.

  “But, Dad…” I hesitate and then all the words spill from my lips. “Didn’t he want to find his real family? Wasn’t there always a little piece of him missing even if he was happy?”

  Dad carefully opens the lid of the glue and shakes his head. “He thought about it for a while and he tried, but it didn’t work out. But he was happy anyway.” Dad smiles and says, “I loved my dad and I love you. Adopting you was important to me.”

  I feel my throat burn and my stomach flips over. Dad asks me if I like the watch. “It’s an important watch because Granddad Fred loved it. In fact, he made it. He was always making things. He said the watch was like a beating heart for the whole family.” Dad points to the clock tattoo on his arm. “That’s why I have the clock on my arm. It reminds me of a beating heart. It reminds me of my amazing family.”

  My finger traces the heart-shaped kite that Dad’s just made. He attaches the nylon line and a long tail and he gives me the black marker. As he gets up to put the scissors away, he asks me what I wish for. “Write what you want most and we’ll let it fly with the kite and the wish might come true.”

  I think for a second, then I take the lid off the pen and write on a piece of paper: MUM. I don’t meet Dad’s eye as I write it because I feel sick. Inside it’s as if I’m being stretched apart like a cheese string. Dad pulls me into a hug and he feels warm and safe and I don’t want the hug to end but it does.

  “It’s great that your wish is for Mum. Mum would love that.”

  I mumble something but even I don’t know what it is, because everything is all jumbled up in my head. I’ve written the word MUM on the wish kite but I don’t know which mum the wish is for.

  The wind on the top of the hill gently whips at my bobble hat and tugs at my coat. Dad strides ahead, saying how much he loves kite-flying and that it’s a huge rush working with the wind, going whatever way it takes you. Pegasus Park is beginning to twinkle with lights as Dad tries to untangle the line of the kite, yanking the nylon string.

  I look up into the twilight sky – orange gives way to inky blue and the tiny dot-to-dot of stars is appearing. Our hot breath makes white popcorn clouds rise into the cold air. For a while I forget about the jelly bean in Mum’s tummy and being rehomed; I even forget I’m an extraordinary superhero and that I have to find my real mother. Instead, I’m just ordinary Adam and I’m with my dad and we’re going to fly the wish kite together.

  Once Dad has checked everything, we walk away from the kite, unravelling some line as we go. “You can fly this, Adam,” Dad says. “Just like my dad let me fly a kite he once built for me. Guess what I wished for back then?”

  “You wished for money?”

  “Don’t be daft. I wished for a Scalextric.” Dad laughs and starts telling me how it was this brilliant slot car racing set. Dad tries to unravel more of the line and he runs backwards until he falls over some stones. I laugh so hard I have to stop myself from joining him in a heap on the ground. “Thank you very much, Adam.” Dad hauls himself back up. “I never said I was a rock climber.” For some reason that makes me laugh even harder and I’m clutching my stomach.

  “Dad, would you like another child you could fly kites with?” I ask once I’ve got my breath back, trying to smile as if it’s not an important question.

  “I haven’t thought about it,” mumbles Dad, giving me the kite line. “Anyway, I’ve got you. And you’re enough at the moment.”

  My smile drops. “At the moment, yes, but could that change?”

  “Things are always changing. Life can be complicated, like the tangles in a kite string.” Dad frowns and double-checks the line. “Being a parent isn’t easy, but you always do your best for your children. Live for the moment, don’t plan too far ahead and deal with whatever comes your way. Does that make any sense?”

  Not really, but then the thoughts inside my head don’t make sense either.r />
  Dad tells me the wish kite is ready and hands me the line – I can smell the scent of green grass and salt on his skin. At first the kite drags along the ground and then Dad puts his hand over mine and the kite begins to lift. Up, up, up it sails, travelling on the wind. I follow it as it leads me along the top of the hill. Dad’s laughing and shouting that I’m doing it and he knew I could. The heart-shaped kite dips and then rises up again and it’s me controlling it. For once, I feel like everything’s going right. The kite’s flying and Dad’s shouting that if life ever feels complicated for me I should talk to him. “I’m a great listener,” he calls as I race further away. “I mean, I listen to Minnie moaning all the time. You can tell me anything.”

  “Okay,” I call back, but then I think about my real mother and I think that I can’t tell Dad about her. How could I? He’d think I’ve forgotten how amazing Mum is, but I haven’t. The kite dips and rises again and then I’m distracted and it crashes to the ground.

  “Kite down,” shouts Dad, panting and running towards me. “We can fix it.” He sits on the ground and takes the kite into his hands and then beckons me over to sit beside him. As soon as I do, Dad lies back and tells me to do the same and we look up into the sky as an aeroplane flies overhead. “I wonder where it’s going.” It glides above us, leaving a trail of vapour. “Do you ever look at planes and wish you were going on an exciting journey?” he says. I think that I wish stuff like that all the time.

  Dad gets back up and fixes the kite and launches it into the air again. We both watch as it dances like a tiny heart on the breeze. “The wish is out there in the universe,” says Dad. “It’s soaring. Look at it fly among the clouds.”

  We follow the heart with MUM on it all the way down the hill and it takes us towards home as if it knows the way. In front of us I can see the tower blocks and I feel like I’ve had a great evening with Dad and I’m talking about comics and he’s laughing. The moon appears like a pearl and I ask Dad if he thinks the Zorbitans will ever find The Grand Moon Master.

  “I suppose so,” says Dad. “If they persist they’ll get there in the end.” I smile but then Dad adds, “But I wonder what will happen when they do find him.”

  It’s an odd thing to say and I’m quick to tell Dad that their hearts will glow and Dad says he knows that’s going to happen, but what happens after that?

  “They’ll have a home with their creator. They won’t forget what it was like before, but they’ll all live happily ever after,” I reply fiercely.

  By the time we get home, Dad’s told me a joke about how Superman’s toilet is called the superbowl and I’m laughing – but then I see Minnie’s got a face like thunder and Mum’s trying to write out a plan of what we can eat for the next week. Minnie asks if we’ve been enjoying ourselves and it’s obvious she’s annoyed. That’s when Minnie says it’s a shame she wasn’t invited. Dad says she wasn’t here.

  “You could have asked me,” declares Minnie.

  Dad looks perplexed. “Would you have wanted to come kite-flying?”

  Minnie shakes her head and says she’d still like to be included so at least she could say no. Then she says I’ve had lots of outings recently, because I went to the Comic Con as well.

  “He goes snooping about and everyone’s all over him,” says Minnie, tapping her lips with her finger. “Maybe I should try that. Why don’t I go looking for something I’m not supposed to and then let everyone buy me tickets to Comic Cons and take me out for fun?” Mum is looking at Minnie like she’s gone doolally.

  “What are you waffling on about?” asks Dad, taking off his coat and resting the kite against the wall. Minnie flounces off to her room, saying that no one ever understands her, which is quite accurate.

  “I was only telling the truth, so in your face, pizza base,” says Minnie when I confront her in her bedroom. She reminds me that I’m not allowed to step over the red line or she might just have to subject me to terrible pain.

  “Pfftt,” I say. “What would you know about that?”

  “I had my legs waxed once,” says Minnie. “I know what pain is.”

  I hover at the red line as Minnie starts spouting about how I’ve been finding out about my mother and then letting Mum and Dad run after me.

  “They’re not,” I say.

  “You’re a hypo,” announces Minnie, and as I’m about to say I’m not a hippo, she says, “hypocrite, not a hippo.”

  There’s no response from me because I don’t have a clue what Minnie’s on about. And even when she says a hypocrite pretends to be perfect but they’re concealing what they’re up to, I’m still clueless.

  Next, Minnie begins counting on her fingers. “You’ve been at a comic thing, number one. And number two, you’ve been kite-flying. You also got Granddad Fred’s watch and that’s number three. Having the best treatment, I’d say. Even though you still haven’t told Mum and Dad what you’re up to. They’re the best, you know, and they don’t deserve to be messed around by you.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” I reply, leaning over the red line. “I was only out with Dad flying a kite. It’s not a big deal. And you were at rehearsals so there was no way Dad could have asked you.” I chew on my lip, knowing that Minnie’s right about me not telling Mum and Dad what I’m doing. I am concealing it. “You weren’t being left out on purpose,” I offer, taking a step back.

  “Really?” Minnie’s eyebrows rise and she checks a hole in her navy tights. “You two are always doing things. Where are my trips out, just me and Dad? Why don’t I get taken places? Where is my watch? It’s like I don’t matter.”

  Sometimes Minnie is a sandwich short of a picnic when she’s annoyed. But then the penny drops. “You’re jealous,” I launch back.

  Minnie’s eyes flare dangerously and she says she isn’t jealous. “Anyway, I wonder how many trips you’d go on if Mum and Dad find out about you searching for your birth certificate and doing your family tree, not ours.”

  “They’d be okay,” I reply cautiously.

  “So tell them then,” Minnie fires back. I pause, then shake my head. “You can’t,” she says triumphantly.

  I wish I had better words to express how I feel, something moving and powerful that tells Minnie how important this is to me. It’s got nothing to do with Mum and Dad, not really. It’s to do with me and the part missing from my life. Maybe it seems stupid because I’ve always known I’m adopted, but now I’m older I do have choices. I can ignore the information I’ve found or I can use it to sort out the missing part in my life and make things perfect. Everyone wants a perfect life, right? Plus Minnie doesn’t know that I need to find my real mother so I have somewhere to go when the jelly bean arrives – but I can’t be the one to tell her about that.

  “I think this conversation is closed,” says Minnie, picking up her mobile phone. “Anyway, I’ve got to discuss my lines with my onstage husband. Callum’s worried about some of his scenes.” Minnie’s fingers move across the screen. “And since I’m a great actress, I’m the person to help him with it. Close the door on your way out.”

  Back in my own room, I throw myself on my bed and look up to the superhero mobile Dad made me. It swings and flutters in the breeze from my window and my heart aches so much I feel like it might break. I had so much fun with Dad this evening that for a second I forgot I wasn’t his real son. I forgot I was going to be leaving. We laughed for ages and talked about the Zorbitans and comics. I felt like I truly belonged.

  Next door, in Mum and Dad’s room, I can hear gentle sobbing and I know it’s Mum. This time I don’t think my teddy bear is going to sort it out. There’s a sniffle and a pause and I get up from my bed and listen. As I’m about to go to Mum’s room, the sobbing stops completely and I wonder if I imagined it. Why would Mum be crying when having a baby is supposed to be the happiest time of your life? That’s what the TV programme said.

  Tiny Eric stops me in the playground and says he’s sorry we didn’t find my real mother’s address at the ho
spital. Then he says he’s been thinking big thoughts.

  “Ooh, well done,” I reply, laughing. “Keep it up.”

  Tiny Eric says I’m very funny and without hesitation I say I take after my dad. Then I feel a strange pang in my stomach as I remember I don’t know who my real dad is. Tiny Eric says he got home last night and started working on a picture. But not just any old picture, he tells me. “This one is going to help you find your real mother. I had the idea when we saw that missing cat poster in Sharkey’s window.”

  “Um, how does a missing cat poster help me?” I blink back my confusion. “I don’t have a missing cat.”

  Tiny Eric taps me on the bobble hat. “Hello, is anyone in there? The bobble hat’s on but there’s no one home.” He tells me he knows I’m not missing a cat, but I am missing my real mother, and if we put up a poster then everyone in the area will keep an eye out, or maybe she’ll even see the poster herself.

  “Yes, but there was a photo of the missing cat,” I respond. “I don’t know what my real mother looks like.”

  “That’s where I come in,” says Tiny Eric, his eyes glittering. He pulls out a poster from his school bag and holds it up in front of me. It says: I’M TRYING TO FIND ROSE WALKER. I THINK SHE LIVES IN PEGASUS PARK BUT IT MIGHT BE SOMEWHERE ELSE. I’D LIKE HER TO GET IN TOUCH. SHE IS PROBABLY IN HER THIRTIES OR FORTIES. PLEASE CONTACT YOUR LOCAL SUPERHERO ON: 0123 457 900

  “That’s my mobile number,” I say, pointing at the poster. “It’s a great idea. But, like I said, I don’t have a picture to include.”

  “I’ve left a space,” replies Tiny Eric. “Do you ever watch those police dramas where they draw an image of the person they’re looking for?”

  “My real mother isn’t a criminal,” I blurt out.

  “I know,” says Tiny Eric, bringing out a pencil. “Keep your hat on. But it’s the same idea. Someone describes the person they want to find and an artist draws the image and puts that out there. It’s genius.”