Just Call Me Spaghetti-Hoop Boy

by Lara Williamson

  I’m trying to watch the girl with the big teeth getting a makeover and she’s wailing that she doesn’t want a shaved head. “Wear a bobble hat,” I mumble. “I would if I could.”

  Minnie gets up from the sofa and goes to the toilet. I hear the door slam and the sound of gushing water and then the squeak of the toilet roll holder. Her phone bleeps again and I get up and go to silence it – and that’s when my heart leaps into my mouth and stays there. I stare at the text message that’s just come through. There’s a name and number beside it. I recognize that number. At first I’m confused. It’s the number that Rose supposedly texted me from. “Why would you send me a message pretending to be my real mother?” I seethe.

  I drop the phone and march out of the living room. I barge past Minnie in the hallway and she says I need to look where I’m going. “Losing your bobble hat has gone to your head,” she spits.

  “Playing Lady Macbeth has gone to yours,” I reply, opening SPAM HQ’s door and then slamming it behind me. When I drop onto my bed I pick up my own mobile phone and look at the message from “Rose Walker” and I can’t believe who is really behind it. It’s definitely the same number I’ve just seen on Minnie’s phone. “Why would you hurt me? You don’t even know me,” I whisper and then I chuck the phone across the bed and it skips across the surface like a flat stone on the ocean.

  That night I dream I’m in a swimming pool and it’s dark and Rose is there, but she’s talking on the phone and it feels like I’m drowning but she doesn’t notice and someone has to throw a giant spaghetti hoop to save me. When I wake up I can tell it’s still the middle of the night because my room is in blackness. Then I hear Mum’s bedroom door open and Mum tiptoes down the hallway. I hear the bathroom door open and close and then the toilet flushes and the tap gushes. Mum sniffs and then blows her nose and there’s another sniff and silence for a few moments. After a while, I hear my bedroom door creak open and a tiny triangle of light puddles into the room. I give a pretend snore as Mum whispers, “I love you, Adam. You’re my heart.” I can feel my own heart beating inside my chest and it feels so loud I’m surprised Mum doesn’t think I’ve got a kettledrum in my bedroom.

  My door is softly closed.

  I’m in darkness again.

  “You didn’t,” says Tiny Eric in school on Monday.

  “Oh yes I did,” I reply with some pride. “I walked right up to the door and rang the bell and she answered.” I swallow deeply.

  “Did she look like you imagined?”

  “Kind of. She has the same hair as me,” I reply, combing my fingers through my hair. Tiny Eric says I look good without the bobble hat and then asks what the house was like. “It was nearly the same size as Buckingham Palace. Only it was blue and didn’t have a flag. There weren’t any guards either and no balcony and no corgis. There was a dog called Bonbon. I think it was a Chihuahua. It yapped a lot. She said he was her baby.”

  Tiny Eric’s eyes widen. “So, nothing like Buckingham Palace then. What happens next? Do you move there? Is she going to give you your own bedroom? Will it be full of comics? Will you take your own stuff from the flat?”

  I hadn’t thought of any of those things. I hadn’t even asked if I could live with her.

  I pause. “I’m going to bring her to the Forest For Ever exhibition. And after that I’m going to ask if I can come and live with her. She’ll have seen the family tree by that stage and it’ll be perfectomundo. That’s the right time to ask. I didn’t want to rush into it.” Perfectomundo, man oh man, why did I even say that? I sound like Dad when he has no grasp of English.

  When the bell goes we head towards class. I grab Tiny Eric’s arm and say, “There’s one more shocker. Rose never sent me a text saying goodbye – and you’ll never guess who did. Wait until you hear this…”

  Tiny Eric nods all the way to the classroom as I tell him what I found out. And then he stops and says, “Why though? Why lie?”

  “I don’t know,” I shrug. “I don’t understand it at all.”

  In class, Mrs Chatterjee says we need to check our trees and put any last bits on them before they go in the exhibition for tomorrow. I finish off mine by sprinkling it with more silver glitter. Minnie always says “more is more”. Mind you, she’s usually talking about make-up.

  “This is looking good,” says Mrs Chatterjee, leaning down and looking at me. “Your mum is going to love it.” Then she wanders over to Tiny Eric. She doesn’t ask him about his tree, which is totally empty, except for lots of leaves. Instead she leans down and whispers something to him, and then she rests her hand on his shoulder before moving on. It makes me stop throwing glitter around.

  I lean over to Tiny Eric and whisper, “You haven’t got much on your tree. How come?”

  “My tree is broken,” says Tiny Eric. When I say it doesn’t look broken, he explains, “That’s the thing. The tree looks okay but on the inside it isn’t. And some of the roots are cracked. I don’t think I’ll be able to make it better.”

  “I could help,” I say, trying to wipe glittery dandruff off my blazer shoulders. “I’ve nearly finished mine.”

  “You can’t help,” says Tiny Eric. “No amount of glitter is going to sort this out.”

  At the end of the day, Tiny Eric and me walk through the playground. He looks down at me and says I’ve been a great przyjaciel. When I ask him what that means, he smiles and says, “Friend.”

  “You’re a great przy-ja-wotsit too,” I say.

  Tiny Eric gets conjunctivitis again, then swings his school bag over his shoulder and says he’s got to hurry home this evening because he’s got lots to do. With a wave, I say, “Bye then.”

  But instead of saying goodbye back, Tiny Eric salutes and says, “You’re a superhero, Adam.”

  At the time I didn’t think anything of it, but as I’m walking home now I remember he said something else. He said I’d been a great friend. Why didn’t he say I am a great friend? Tomorrow I am going to tell him about his tenses. Just like Mrs Chatterjee once said to me.

  Next day is the Forest For Ever exhibition. The classroom clock ticks from 8.50 to 9 a.m. Then it’s 9.04 and there’s still no sign of Tiny Eric. He didn’t tell me he wasn’t coming in today, but I did think he was acting a bit strange yesterday. Last night I couldn’t get it out of my head that he said we’d been good friends and I wanted to text him, but Sausage Roll needed a walk in the local play park and Velvet made me take her too and we got carried away having a who-can-swing-the-highest competition and I forgot all about it.

  Mrs Chatterjee is calling the register and I’m first and I shout, “Yes, miss!” She glances up at me and then keeps running down the names. Nish Choudary shouts, “Yes, miss!” and after that there’s a constant drone of “Yes, miss!” until she calls out Belle Talbot and finally closes the register. I look around and no one except me seems to have noticed that she didn’t call out Tiny Eric’s name.

  All morning I keep looking over at Tiny Eric’s desk and there’s something strange about it. At first I’m not sure what, but then I realize his pencil case has gone and when I sneak a look inside the desk, his books are gone too. I gave him a badge from Surelock Homes once. It was a promotional thing and Dad brought home loads of them. That’s gone too. There’s nothing left. It’s like Tiny Eric has disappeared.

  At lunch, The Beast squeezes up beside me and pulls a peanut butter sandwich out of a red lunchbox and takes a big bite. Between chews The Beast says, “You’re like Batman without his mask.” A chunky finger points to where my bobble hat was.

  “Do you like Batman?” I ask, opening a packet of kale crisps.

  I peep inside the bag before offering one to The Beast. I watch as The Beast sniffs the green crisp, then takes a nibble before spitting it back out, saying, “Ugh! They’re awful.” I agree, laughing. The Beast continues, “I love Batman and Spider-Man and The Incredible Hulk and the Zorbitans. I love all the superheroes.”

  My eyes widen. “I didn’t think a…” I
cough, spraying kale crumbs everywhere, as I think twice about what I was going to say. “I didn’t think a person like you would love the Zorbitans. I love the Zorbitans too. Did you see the latest issue?” The Zorbitans actually found The Grand Moon Master, but their emerald hearts didn’t glow and that’s how it ended. Dad said it was a comic “cliffhanger” and I said I didn’t like comic “cliffhangers”.

  The Beast vacuums up a chocolate biscuit, then says, “I wanted the Zorbitans’ hearts to glow. It was a swizz. I bet their hearts did glow, but we just didn’t see that bit. It’ll be in another comic.”

  I nod – The Beast has a point. Surely their hearts did glow, but it was after we’d turned the last page. “You’re right,” I say. And The Beast smiles at me. The Beast has quite nice teeth, if you look closely.

  After lunch, Mrs Chatterjee asks us to get out our trees because we’re going to put them in position in the school assembly hall for this evening’s exhibition. I wait until everyone else has pulled their trees out of the cupboard and then go in for mine. Tiny Eric’s is still sitting in the corner and I pull it out too, saying to Mrs Chatterjee that we need to include it in the exhibition even if there aren’t any tags on it.

  “He might be able to come tonight. Maybe he’s feeling better,” I say hopefully.

  “Ah, that’s a lovely thought, Adam.” Mrs Chatterjee perches on the edge of her desk. “But I’m not sure Eric will be there tonight. Class, I think I should let you know that sadly Eric won’t be joining us in this class again.” There’s a shocked silence. Nish looks over at me and I feel a rocket of worry launch from my stomach. “Without going into all the details, his mother has decided to move back to her parents’ house in Poland for a while and Eric will be going to a local school there.”

  Tiny Eric’s gone? He’s moving house to Poland? And he’s got a new school already? I saw that word written on the photo he brought out of his blazer pocket, so it must be true. My eyes begin to burn and I have to look up at the ceiling to make all the water dribble back into my eyes and down my throat. And it feels like I’m battling conjunctivitis too as my mind races over everything.

  I look up at the wall where Mrs Chatterjee has put Tiny Eric’s drawing of his dad and it hits me like a whack from Thor’s hammer. It was Tiny Eric’s dad I saw that evening at the swimming pool. I knew I recognized him from somewhere – the classroom wall, that’s where. It would all fall into place if there wasn’t something else troubling me. The woman he was kissing wasn’t Tiny Eric’s mum.

  It all makes sense to me now. That’s why Tiny Eric drew his dad as a monster the other week – he’d been let down. It was about so much more than moving house.

  I want to hide in my bobble hat and feel safe but it’s not there and my head feels cold as I slump onto the desk. Tiny Eric isn’t allowed to go. I don’t want to lose him, because he helped me find my real mother. It was his four-leaf clover drawing and his poster that made it happen. He is my friend. I knew something was wrong but I was so tied up in myself that I didn’t see how sad he was. How can you not see that your friend has problems too?

  I’ve got to put it right. Being a superhero means recognizing when others need you, and even if I failed before, I’ve got to do something for Tiny Eric now. I raise my hand.

  “I want to sort out Tiny Eric’s tree. It can survive and be okay. It just needs some love.”

  Mrs Chatterjee nods. “What a lovely idea, Adam.”

  Nish puts his hand up. “I’ll help him.”

  One by one, everyone in the class puts their hand up. “We’ll help.”

  Overwhelmed, Mrs Chatterjee says, “Children, you are wonderful and I’m proud of you. What a good deed to do for your friend. You all deserve a treat. Remember I said the winner of the best tree would get some sweets? Well, I’ve got enough sweets in my bag for everyone in the class, because you’re all wonderful.” Mrs Chatterjee reaches into her handbag under the table and brings out a big bag of liquorice. “Don’t all rush at once,” she says, opening the bag.

  No one rushes all at once, but I get up and go to the front and take a brown one and try to convince myself it’s chocolate. Smiling, I go back to my seat.

  “You’ve got a black tooth,” shrieks Nish as I chew the liquorice and swallow it down almost whole. “You’re like a pirate.”

  Everyone wants one then and we’re all black-toothed pirates as we repair Tiny Eric’s tree. I write lots of nice things about Tiny Eric and I tie them on. Nish works on more leaves and he makes them look realistic, with veins and everything. Eventually the tree’s upright and everyone looks at it and gives it a round of applause. Tiny Eric’s tree might have felt empty without the tags but now it is better, because it is a family tree and we’ve been his family, at least for a while.

  Mrs Chatterjee looks at all the trees and says we’ve done ourselves proud and we’re going to go to the assembly hall now and put them up, ready for tonight’s exhibition.

  In the hall she consults her clipboard and begins calling out names and pointing to spots on the floor where she thinks the trees will look best. I’m in the centre and Tiny Eric’s tree is going to be beside mine. Mrs Chatterjee finds a black sack behind the curtain on the stage and brings it out. She rummages around inside it and snakes of fairy lights slither out. “Let our families shine,” says Mrs Chatterjee, trying to untangle the lights.

  Five minutes later we’re all trying to untangle the lights and Mrs Chatterjee is muttering about tangle monsters and how you put fairy lights in a bag untangled and then they come back out all chewed up and knotted. Eventually we get the fairy lights sorted out and we put them all around our trees and Mrs Chatterjee switches them on…and it’s magical.

  “Each tree represents a family. Each tree is a guiding light in the world. They all shine in their own way. And although the trees are separate they are connected by light and love and humanity. And perhaps sometimes it can feel like the trunk of a tree has split, but the tree will still flourish in the end. It can take a while for the damage to fade, but with love and water, green shoots will come again.” Mrs Chatterjee looks at Tiny Eric’s tree and nods.

  As we’re leaving the assembly hall, Mrs Chatterjee pulls me to the side and asks if I’ve enjoyed the project. I tell her I have and she continues, “I know your mum will be very proud when she sees your tree. It’s so good I bet she’ll have tears in her eyes.”

  “Yes, miss,” I reply. “We’re coming together. I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

  Mrs Chatterjee pulls a face. “I’ve met her,” she says. “At parents’ evening, remember.” Then she shouts at Nish for not closing the door. “Were you born in a barn?” Everyone laughs.

  Minnie is waiting for me at the gate after school. “I thought I’d come and get you. We finished our dress rehearsal a bit early today. It was the last one before tonight’s big performance.” Minnie looks at me and then combs her fingers through her hair. “Adam, tell me the truth.”

  I swallow.

  “You want to come to my play, don’t you? You’ve not mentioned it once.” I puff out some relief. I shrug and Minnie continues, “It’s just that I haven’t really spoken to you properly for ages and I thought it might help if we talked. I mean, we used to talk.” She clears her throat as we head down Agamemnon Road. “I always wanted a brother, you know,” she says.

  “You did?” I find that pretty hard to believe.

  “Yes, when Mum and Dad were getting you I was really excited. That’s what Mum says anyway – I can’t really remember. But that’s because it’s like you’ve always been part of the family. And when you arrived you and me gave each other presents, because Mum said you should give a gift to a new baby and the new baby should give you one. She said that was fair.” Minnie hoists her school bag back up onto her shoulder. “You got me a doll.”

  “I can’t remember,” I reply, chewing on my lip. To be fair they don’t taste great so I stop.

  “That’s because Mum bought it, silly.” Minn
ie laughs. “You were just a baby, so you could hardly trot off to the toy shop and buy me a doll. I think it was Mum’s way of making things nice. Mum’s like that.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you know what I gave you?”

  I shrug. “A toy?”

  Minnie smiles and the wind catches her hair and it flies up like brown ribbons. “I gave you a bobble hat. To be fair, I don’t remember it either. But that’s what Mum told me she bought from me to you. Mum said you looked beautiful and the bobble was almost as big as you. When you got older you wanted to wear a bobble hat all the time and Mum kept buying them, and then it sort of became your security blanket. She told me off once when I was making fun behind your back, and said it was fine for you to wear the bobble hat until you didn’t need it.”

  “I’m getting it back,” I reply. I feel my cheeks burn.

  “Right,” says Minnie.

  “I’m going to be wearing it later.”

  “Adam, you’re happy, right?”

  Minnie is being all weird and nice but I still can’t bring myself to talk to her about the stuff I really need to. And she’s no better than me, because she’s skating around everything like a world-champion figure skater. “Yes,” I reply. “I’m happy.”

  “You’re happy with us, I mean.”

  I swallow and the wind ruffles my hair and it feels strange being without my bobble hat. Clearing my throat I reply, “Yes, I’m happy with you.”

  As we walk on in silence, I feel Minnie pat my shoulder and then drop her hand.

  “One more thing,” says Minnie. She stops and turns to look at me. Her eyes are like muddy pools and her jaw is set. “I’m sorry.”

  I shrug, not knowing what to say. Somehow shrugging seems easy.