Room: A Novel

Dying

It’s all warm. Ma’s up already. On Table there’s a new box of cereal and four bananas, yippee. Old Nick must have come in the night. I jump out of Bed. There’s macaroni too, and hot dogs and mandarins and — Ma’s not eating any of it, she’s standing at Dresser looking at Plant. There’s three leaves off. Ma touches Plant’s stalk and—“No!”

“She was dead already.”

“You broke her.”

Ma shakes her head. “Alive things bend, Jack. I think it was the cold, it made Plant go all stiff inside.” I’m trying to fit her stem back together. “She needs some tape.” I remember we don’t have any left, Ma put the last bit on Spaceship, stupid Ma. I run over to pull Box out from Under Bed, I find Spaceship and rip the bits of tape off.

Ma just watches.

I’m pressing the tape on Plant but it just slips off and she’s in pieces.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Make her be alive again,” I tell Ma.

“I would if I could.”

She waits till I stop crying, she wipes my eyes. I’m too hot now, I pull off my extra clothes.

“I guess we better put her in the trash,” says Ma.

“No,” I say, “down Toilet.”

“That could block the pipes.”

“We can break her up in tiny pieces . . .”

I kiss a few leaves of Plant and flush them, then another few and flush again, then the stalk in bits. “Good-bye, Plant,” I whisper. Maybe in the sea she’ll stick all back together again and grow up to Heaven.

The sea’s real, I’m just remembering. It’s all real in Outside, everything there is, because I saw the airplane in the blue between the clouds. Ma and me can’t go there because we don’t know the secret code, but it’s real all the same.

Before I didn’t even know to be mad that we can’t open Door, my head was too small to have Outside in it. When I was a little kid I thought like a little kid, but now I’m five I know everything.

We have a bath right after breakfast, the water’s all steamy, yum. We fill Bath so high it nearly makes a flood. Ma lies back and goes nearly asleep, I wake her up to wash her hair and she does mine. We do laundry too, but then there’s long hairs on the sheets so we have to pick them off, we have a race to see who gets more fasterer.

The cartoons are over already, kids are coloring eggs for the Runaway Bunny. I look at each different kid and I say in my head: You’re real.

“The Easter Bunny, not the Runaway Bunny,” says Ma. “Me and Paul used to — when we were kids, the Easter Bunny brought chocolate eggs in the night and hid them all around our backyard, under bushes and in holes in the trees, even in the hammock.”

“Did he take your teeth?” I ask.

“No, it was all for free.” Her face is flat.

I don’t think the Easter Bunny knows where Room is, anyway we don’t have bushes and trees, they’re outside Door.

This is a pretty happy day because of the heat and the food, but Ma’s not happy. Probably she misses Plant.

I choose Phys Ed, it’s Hiking, where we walk hand in hand on Track and call out what we can see. “Look, Ma, a waterfall.” After a minute I say, “Look, a wildebeest.”

“Wow.”

“Your turn.”

“Oh, look,” says Ma, “a snail.”

I bend down to see it. “Look, a giant bulldozer knocking down a skyscraper.”

“Look,” she says, “a flamingo flying by.”

“Look, a zombie all drooling.”

“Jack!” That makes her smile for half a second.

Then we march faster and sing “This Land Is Your Land.”

Then we put Rug down again and she’s our flying carpet, we zoom over the North Pole.

Ma picks Corpse, where we lie extra still, I forget and scratch my nose so she wins. Next I choose Trampoline but she says she doesn’t want to do any more Phys Ed.

“You just do the commentary and I do the boinging.”

“No, sorry, I’m going back to Bed for a bit.”

She’s not much fun today.

I pull Eggsnake out from Under Bed real slow, I think I can hear him hiss with his needle tongue, Greetingssssss. I stroke him especially his eggs that are cracked or dented. One crumbles off in my fingers, I go make glue with a pinch of flour and stick the pieces on a ruled paper for a jaggedy mountain. I want to show Ma but her eyes are closed.

I go in Wardrobe and play I’m a coal miner. I find a gold nugget under my pillow, he’s actually Tooth. He’s not alive and he didn’t bend, he broke, but we don’t have to put him down Toilet. He’s made of Ma, her dead spit.

I stick my head out and Ma’s eyes open. “What are you doing?” I ask her.

“Just thinking.”

I can think and do interesting stuff at the same time. Can’t she?

She gets up to make lunch, it’s a box of macaroni all orangey, delicioso.

Afterwards I play Icarus with his wings melting. Ma’s washing up real slow. I wait for her to be done so she can play but she doesn’t want to play, she sits in Rocker and just rocks.

“What are you doing?”

“Still thinking.” After a minute, she asks, “What’s in the pillowcase?”

“It’s my backpack.” I’ve tied two corners of it around my neck. “It’s for going in Outside when we get rescued.” I’ve put in Tooth and Jeep and Remote and an underwear for me and one for Ma and socks too and Scissors and the four apples for if we get hungry. “Is there water?” I ask her.

Ma nods. “Rivers, lakes . . .”

“No, but for drinking, is there a faucet?”

“Lots of faucets.”

I’m glad I don’t have to bring a bottle of water because my backpack’s pretty heavy now, I have to hold it at my neck so it doesn’t squish my talking.

Ma’s rocking and rocking. “I used to dream about being rescued,” she says. “I wrote notes and hid them in the trash bags, but nobody ever found them.” “You should have sent them down Toilet.”

“And when we scream, nobody hears us,” she says. “I was flashing the light on and off half the night last night, then I thought, nobody’s looking.”

“But—”

“Nobody’s going to rescue us.”

I don’t say anything. And then I say, “You don’t know everything there is.”

Her face is the strangest I ever saw.

I’d rather she was Gone for the day than all not-Ma like this.

I get all my books down from Shelf and read them, Pop-Up Airport and Nursery Rhymes and Dylan the Digger who’s my favorite and The Runaway Bunny but I stop halfway and save that for Ma, I read some Alice instead, I skip the scary Duchess.

Ma finally stops rocking.

“Can I have some?”

“Sure,” she says, “come here.”

I sit in her lap and lift up her T-shirt and I have lots for a long time.

“All done?” she says in my ear.

“Yeah.”

“Listen, Jack. Are you listening?”

“I’m always listening.”

“We have to get out of here.”

I stare at her.

“And we have to do it all by ourselves.”

But she said we were like in a book, how do people in a book escape from it?

“We need to figure out a plan.” Her voice is all high.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, do I? I’ve been trying to think of one for seven years.”

“We could smash down the walls.” But we don’t have a jeep to smash them down or a bulldozer even. “We could . . . blow up Door.” “With what?”

“The cat did it on Tom and Jerry—”

“It’s great that you’re brainstorming,” says Ma, “but we need an idea that’ll actually work.” “A really big explosion,” I tell her.

“If it’s really big, it’ll blow us up too.”

I hadn’t thought of that. I do another brainstorm. “Oh, Ma! We could . . . wait till Old Nick comes one night and you could say, ‘Oh, look at this yummy cake we made, have a big slice of our yummy Easter cake,’ and actually it would be poison.’

Ma shakes her head. “If we make him sick, he still won’t give us the code.”

I think so hard it hurts.

“Any other ideas?”

“You say no to all of them.”

“Sorry. Sorry. I’m just trying to be realistic.”

“Which ideas are realistic?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” Ma licks her lips. “I keep obsessing about the moment the door opens, if we timed it exactly right for that split second, could we rush past him?”

“Oh yeah, that’s a cool idea.”

“If you could slip out, even, while I go for his eyes—” Ma shakes her head. “No way.”

“Yes way.”

“He’d grab you, Jack, he’d grab you before you got halfway up the yard and—” She stops talking.

After a minute I say, “Any other ideas?”

“Just the same ones going around and around like rats on a wheel,” says Ma through her teeth.

Why rats go on a wheel? Is it like a Ferris at a fair?

“We should do a cunning trick,” I tell her.

“Like what?”

“Like, maybe like when you were a student and he tricked you into his truck with his dog that wasn’t a real dog.” Ma lets out her breath. “I know you’re trying to help, but maybe you could hush for a while now so I can think?” But we were thinking, we were thinking hard together. I get up and go eat the banana with the big brown bit, the brown is the sweetest.

“Jack!” Ma’s eyes are all huge and she’s talking extra fast. “What you said about the dog — actually that was a brilliant idea. What if we pretend you’re ill?”

I’m confused, then I see. “Like the dog that wasn’t?”

“Exactly. When he comes in — I could tell him you’re really sick.”

“What kind of sick?”

“Maybe a really, really bad cold,” says Ma. “Try coughing a lot.”

I cough and cough and she listens. “Hmm,” she says.

I don’t think I’m very good at it. I cough louder, it feels like my throat’s going to rip.

Ma shakes her head. “Forget the cough.”

“I can do it even bigger—”

“You’re doing a great job, but it still sounds pretend.”

I let out the biggest horriblest cough ever.

“I don’t know,” says Ma, “maybe coughing is just too hard to fake. Anyway—” She slaps her head. “I’m so dumb.” “No you’re not.” I rub where she hit.

“It has to be something you picked up from Old Nick, d’you see? He’s the only one who brings in the germs, and he hasn’t had a cold. No, we need..something in the food?” She looks all fierce at the bananas. “E. coli? Would that give you a fever?”

Ma’s not meant to ask me things, she’s meant to know.

“A really bad fever, so you can’t talk or wake up properly . . .”

“Why I can’t talk?”

“It’ll make the pretending easier if you don’t. Yeah,” says Ma, her eyes all shiny, “I’ll tell him, ‘You’ve got to take Jack to the hospital in your truck so the doctors can give him the right medicine.’ ”

“Me riding in the brown truck?”

Ma nods. “To the hospital.”

I can’t believe it. But then I think about the medical planet. “I don’t want to be cutted open.” “Oh, the doctors won’t do anything to you for real, because you won’t actually have anything wrong with you, remember?” She strokes my shoulder. “It’s just a trick for our Great Escape. Old Nick will carry you into the hospital, and the first doctor you see — or nurse, whatever — you shout, ‘Help!’ ” “You can shout it.”

I think maybe Ma didn’t hear me. Then she says, “I won’t be at the hospital.”

“Where will you be?”

“Right here in Room.”

I have a better idea. “You could be pretend-sick too, like that time we had diarrhea both at the same time, then he’d bring both of us in his truck.” Ma chews her lip. “He won’t buy it. I know it’ll be really weird to go on your own, but I’ll be talking to you in your head every minute, I promise. Remember when Alice was falling down, down, down, she was talking to Dinah her cat in her head all the time?”

Ma won’t be in my head really. My tummy hurts just thinking about it. “I don’t like this plan.” “Jack—”

“It’s a bad idea.”

“Actually—”

“I’m not going in Outside without you.”

“Jack—”

“No way Jose no way Jose no way Jose.”

“OK, calm down. Forget it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, there’s no point trying this if you’re not ready.”

She still sounds cranky.

It’s April today so I get to blow up a balloon. There’s three left, red, yellow, and another yellow, I choose yellow so there’ll still be one of each red or yellow for next month. I blow it up and let it zoom around Room lots of times, I like the spluttery noise. It’s hard to decide when to tie the knot because after, the balloon won’t zoom anymore, just slow flying. But I need to tie the knot to play Balloon Tennis. So I let it go splutterzoom a lot and blow it up three times more, then I tie the knot, with my finger in it by accident. When it’s tied right, Ma and me play Balloon Tennis, I win five times of seven.

She says, “Would you like some?”

“The left, please,” I say, getting onto Bed.

There isn’t very much but it’s yummy.

I think I snooze for a while but then Ma’s talking in my ear. “Remember how they crawled through the dark tunnel away from the Nazis? One at a time.” “Yeah.”

“That’s how we’ll do it, when you’re ready.”

“What tunnel?” I look all around.

“Like the tunnel, not an actual one. What I’m saying is, the prisoners had to be really brave and go one at a time.” I shake my head.

“It’s the only workable plan.” Ma’s eyes are too shiny. “You’re my brave Prince JackerJack. You’ll go to the hospital first, see, then you’ll come back with the police—”

“Will they arrest me?”

“No no, they’ll help. You’ll bring them back here to rescue me and we’ll be together again always.” “I can’t rescue,” I tell her, “I’m only five.”

“But you’ve got superpowers,” Ma tells me. “You’re the only one who can do this. Will you?”

I don’t know what to say but she’s waiting and waiting.

“OK.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes.”

She gives me an enormous kiss.

We get out of Bed and have a tub of mandarins each.

Our plan has problem bits, Ma keeps thinking of them and saying oh no, but then she figures out a way.

“The police won’t know the secret code to get you out,” I tell her.

“They’ll think of something.”

“What?”

She rubs her eye. “I don’t know, a blowtorch?”

“What’s—?”

“It’s a tool with flame coming out, it could burn the door right open.”

“We could make one,” I tell her, jumping up and down. “We could, we could take the vitamin bottle with the Dragon head and put him on Stove with the power on till he’s on fire, and—”

“And burn ourselves to death,” says Ma, not friendly.

“But—”

“Jack, this is not a game. Let’s go over the plan again . . .”

I remember all the parts but I keep getting them the wrong way around.

“Look, it’s like on Dora,” says Ma, “when she goes to one place and then a second place to get to the third place. For us it’s Truck, hospital, Police. Say it?”

“Truck, Hospital, Police.”

“Or maybe it’s five steps, actually. Sick, Truck, Hospital, Police, Save Ma.” She waits.

“Truck—”

“Sick.”

“Sick,” I say.

“Hospital—no, sorry, Truck. Sick, Truck—”

“Sick, Truck, Hospital, Save Ma.”

“You forgot Police” she says. “Count on your fingers. Sick, Truck, Hospital, Police, Save Ma.” We do it over and over. We make a map of it on ruled paper with pictures, the sick one has me with my eyes closed and my tongue all hanging out, then there’s a brown pickup truck, then a person in a long white coat that means doctors, then a police car with a flashing siren, then Ma waving and smiling because of being free, with the blowtorch all fiery like a dragon. My head is tired but Ma says we have to practice the being sick bit, that’s the most important. “Because if he doesn’t believe it, none of the rest will happen. I’ve had an idea, I’m going to make your forehead really hot and let him touch it . . .”

“No.”

“It’s OK, I won’t burn you—”

She doesn’t understand. “No him touching me.”

“Ah,” says Ma. “Just one time, I promise, and I’ll be right beside you.”

I keep shaking my head.

“Yeah, this could work,” she says, “maybe you could lie against the vent . . .” She kneels down and puts her hand in Under Bed near Bed Wall, then she frowns and says, “Not hot enough. Maybe . . . a bag of really hot water on your forehead, just before he comes? You’ll be in bed, and when we hear the door going beep beep I’ll hide the bag of water.”

“Where?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter.”

Ma looks at me. “You’re right, we have to figure out all the details so nothing messes up our plan. I’ll drop the bag of water under the bed, OK? Then when Old Nick feels your forehead it’ll be super hot. Will we try that?”

“With the bag of water?”

“No, just get into bed for now and practice being all floppy, like when we play Corpse.”

I’m very good at that, my mouth hangs open. She pretends to be him, with a really deep voice. She puts her hand over my eyebrows and says all gruff, “Wow, that’s hot.”

I giggle.

“Jack.”

“Sorry.” I lie extra still.

We practice a lot more, then I’m sick of being pretend-sick, so Ma lets me stop.

Dinner’s hot dogs. Ma’s hardly eating hers. “So do you remember the plan?” she asks.

I nod.

“Tell me.”

I swallow my end of roll. “Sick, Truck, Hospital, Police, Save Ma.”

“Wonderful. Are you ready, then?”

“For what?”

“Our Great Escape. Tonight.”

I didn’t know it’s tonight. I’m not ready. “Why is it tonight?”

“I don’t want to wait any longer. After he cut the power —”

“But he switched it back on last night.”

“Yeah, after three days. And Plant was dead from the cold. And who knows what he’ll do tomorrow?” Ma stands up with her plate, she’s nearly shouting. “He looks human, but there’s nothing inside.”

I’m confused. “Like a robot?”

“Worse.”

“One time there was this robot on Bob the Builder—”

Ma butts in. “You know your heart, Jack?”

“Bam bam.” I show her on my chest.

“No, but your feeling bit, where you’re sad or scared or laughing or stuff?”

That’s lower down, I think it’s in my tummy.

“Well, he hasn’t got one.”

“A tummy?”

“A feeling bit,” says Ma.

I’m looking at my tummy. “What does he have instead?”

She shrugs. “Just a gap.”

Like a crater? But that’s a hole where something happened. What happened?

I still don’t understand why Old Nick being a robot means we have to do the cunning plan tonight. “Let’s do it another night.” “OK,” says Ma, she flops down in her chair.

“OK?”

“Yeah.” She rubs her forehead. “I’m sorry, Jack, I know I’m rushing you. I’ve had a long time to think this through, but it’s all new to you.” I nod and nod.

“I guess another couple of days can’t make much difference. So long as I don’t let him pick another fight.” She smiles at me. “Maybe in a couple of days?” “Maybe when I’m six.”

Ma’s staring at me.

“Yeah, I’ll be ready to trick him and go in Outside when I’m six.”

She puts her face down on her arms.

I pull at her. “Don’t.”

When it comes up it’s a scary face. “You said you were going to be my superhero.”

I don’t remember saying that.

“Don’t you want to escape?”

“Yeah. Only not really.”

“Jack!”

I look at my last piece of hot dog but I don’t want it. “Let’s just stay.”

Ma’s shaking her head. “It’s getting too small.”

“What is?”

“Room.”

“Room’s not small. Look.” I climb up on my chair and jump with my arms out and spin, I don’t bang into anything.

“You don’t even know what it’s doing to you.” Her voice is shaky. “You need to see things, touch things—” “I do already.”

“More things, other things. You need more room. Grass. I thought you wanted to meet Grandma and Grandpa and Uncle Paul, go on the swings at the playground, eat ice cream . . .” “No, thanks.”

“OK, forget it.”

Ma pulls her clothes off and puts on her sleeping T-shirt. I do mine. She doesn’t say anything she’s so furious at me. She ties up the trash bag and puts it beside Door. There’s no list on it tonight.

We brush teeth. She spits. There’s white on her mouth. Her eyes look in mine in Mirror. “I’d give you more time if I could,” she says. “I swear, I’d wait as long as you needed if I thought we were safe. But we’re not.”

I turn around quick to the real her, I hide my face in her tummy. I get some toothpaste on her T-shirt but she doesn’t mind.

We lie on Bed and Ma gives me some, the left, we don’t talk.

In Wardrobe I can’t get to sleep. I sing quietly, “ ‘John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt.’ ” I wait. I sing it again.

Finally Ma answers, “ ‘His name is my name, too.’ ”

“ ‘Whenever I go out—’ ”

“ ‘The people always shout—’ ”

“ ‘There goes John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt—’ ”

Usually she joins in for the “na na na na na na na,” it’s the fun-nest bit, but not this time.

Ma wakes me but it’s still night. She’s leaning in Wardrobe, I bang my shoulder sitting up. “Come see,” she whispers.

We stand beside Table and look up, there’s the most hugest round silver face of God. So bright, shining all of Room, the faucets and Mirror and the pots and Door and Ma’s cheeks even. “You know,” she whispers, “sometimes the moon is a semicircle, and sometimes a crescent, and sometimes just a little curve like a fingernail clipping.” “Nah.” Only in TV.

She points up at Skylight. “You’ve just seen it when it’s full and right overhead. But when we get out, we’ll be able to spot it lower down in the sky, when it’s all kind of shapes. And even in the daytime.”

“No way Jose.”

“I’m telling you the truth. You’re going to enjoy the world so much. Wait till you see the sun when it’s going down, all pink and purple . . .” I yawn.

“Sorry,” she says, whispering again, “come on into bed.”

I look to see if the trash bag is gone, it is. “Was Old Nick here?”

“Yeah. I told him you were coming down with something. Cramps, diarrhea.” Ma’s voice is nearly laughing.

“Why you—?”

“That way he’ll start believing our trick. Tomorrow night, that’s when we’ll do it.”

I yank my hand out of hers. “You shouldn’t told him that.”

“Jack—”

“Bad idea.”

“It’s a good plan.”

“It’s a stupid dumbo plan.”

“It’s the only one we’ve got,” says Ma very loud.

“But I said no.”

“Yeah, and before that you said maybe, and before that you said yes.”

“You’re a cheater.”

“I’m your mother.” Ma’s nearly roaring. “That means sometimes I have to choose for both of us.” We get into Bed. I curl up tight, with her behind me.

I wish we got those special boxing gloves for Sundaytreat so I’d be allowed hit her.

I wake up scared and I stay scared.

Ma doesn’t let us flush after poo, she breaks it all up with the handle of Wooden Spoon so it’ll look like poo soup, it smells the worst.

We don’t play anything, we just practice me being floppy and not saying one single word. I feel a bit sick for real, Ma says that’s just the power of suggestion. “You’re so good at pretending, you’re even tricking yourself.”

I pack my backpack again that’s really a pillowcase, I put Remote in and my yellow balloon, but Ma says no. “If you have anything with you, Old Nick will guess you’re running away.”

“I could hide Remote in my pants pocket.”

She shakes her head. “You’ll just be in your sleep T-shirt and underwear, because that’s what you’d be wearing if you were really scorching hot with a fever.” I think about Old Nick carrying me into the truck, I’m dizzy like I’m going to fall down.

“Scared is what you’re feeling,” says Ma, “but brave is what you’re doing.”

“Huh?”

“Scaredybrave.”

“Scave.”

Word sandwiches always make her laugh but I wasn’t being funny.

Lunch is beef soup, I just suck the crackers.

“Which bit are you worrying about right now?” asks Ma.

“The hospital. What if I don’t say the right words?”

“All you have to do is tell them your mother’s locked up and the man who brought you in did it.” “But the words—”

“What?” She waits.

“What if they don’t come out at all?”

Ma leans her mouth on her fingers. “I keep forgetting you’ve never talked to anybody but me.” I wait.

Ma lets her breath out long and noisy. “Tell you what, I have an idea. I’ll write you a note for you to keep hidden, a note that explains everything.” “Good-o.”

“You just give it to the first person — not a patient, I mean, the first person in a uniform.” “What’ll the person do with it?”

“Read it, of course.”

“TV persons can read?”

She stares at me. “They’re real people, remember, just like us.”

I still don’t believe that but I don’t say.

Ma does the note on a bit of ruled paper. It’s a story all about us and Room and Please send help a.s.a.p., that means super fast. Near the start, there’s two words I never saw before, Ma says they’re her names like TV persons have, what everybody in Outside used to call her, it’s only me who says Ma.

My tummy hurts, I don’t like her to have other names that I never even knowed. “Do I have other names?” “No, you’re always Jack. Oh, but — I guess you’d have my last name too.” She points at the second one.

“What for?”

“Well, to show you’re not the same as all the other Jacks in the world.”

“Which other Jacks? Like in the magic stories?”

“No, real boys,” says Ma. “There are millions of people out there, and there aren’t enough names for everyone, they have to share.” I don’t want to share my name. My tummy hurts harder. I don’t have a pocket so I put the note inside my underwear, it’s scratchy.

The light’s all leaking away. I wish the day stayed longer so it wouldn’t be night.

It’s 08:41 and I’m in Bed practicing. Ma’s filled a plastic bag with really hot water and tied it tight so none spills out, she puts it in another bag and ties that too. “Ouch.” I try to get away.

“Is it your eyes?” She puts it back on my face. “It’s got to be hot, or it won’t work.”

“But it hurts.”

She tries it on herself. “One more minute.”

I put up my fists between.

“You have to be as brave as Prince JackerJack,” says Ma, “or this won’t work. Maybe I should just tell Old Nick you got better?” “No.”

“I bet Jack the Giant Killer would put a hot bag on his face if he had to. Come on, just a bit longer.” “Let me.” I put the bag down on the pillow, I scrunch up my face and put it on the hotness. Sometimes I come up for a break and Ma feels my forehead or my cheeks and says, “Sizzling,” then she makes me put my face back. I’m crying a bit, not about the hot but because of Old Nick coming, if he’s coming tonight, I don’t want him to, I think I’m going to be sick for actual. I’m always listening for the beep beep. I hope he doesn’t come, I’m not scave I’m just regular scared.

I run to Toilet and do more poo and Ma stirs it up. I want to flush but she says no, Room has to stink like I’ve had diarrhea all day.

When I get back into Bed she kisses the back of my neck and says, “You’re doing great, crying is a big help.” “Why’s—?”

“Because it makes you look sicker. Let’s do something about your hair . . . I should have thought of that before.” She puts some dish soap on her hands and rubs it hard all on my head. “That looks good and greasy. Oh but it smells too nice, you need to smell worse.” She runs over to look at Watch again. “We’re running out of time,” she says, all shaky. “I’m an idiot, you have to smell bad, you really — Hang on.”

She leans over Bed, she makes a weird cough and puts her hand in her mouth. She keeps making the weird sound. Then stuff falls out of her mouth like spit but much thicker. I can see the fish sticks we had for dinner.

She’s rubbing it on the pillow, on my hair. “Stop,” I shriek, I’m trying to wriggle away.

“Sorry, I have to.” Ma’s eyes are weird and shiny. She’s wiping her vomit on my T-shirt, even my mouth. It smells the worst ever, all sharp and poisonous. “Put your face on the hot bag again.”

“But—”

“Do it, Jack, hurry.”

“I want to stop now.”

“We’re not playing, we can’t stop. Do it.”

I’m crying because the stink and my face in the hot bag so I think it’s going to melt off. “You’re mean.” “I’ve got a good reason,” says Ma.

Beep beep. Beep beep.

Ma grabs the bag of water away, it’s ripping off my face. “Shh.” She presses my eyes shut, pushes my face down into the awful pillow, she pulls Duvet right up over my back.

The colder air comes in with him. Ma calls out right away, “There you are.”

“Keep your voice down.” Old Nick says it quietly like a growl.

“I just—”

“Shh.” Another beep beep, then the boom. “You know the drill,” he says, “not a peep out of you till the door’s shut.” “Sorry, sorry. It’s just, Jack’s really bad.” Ma’s voice is shaking and for a minute I nearly believe it, she’s even better pretending than me.

“It reeks in here.”

“That’s because he’s had it coming out both ends.”

“Probably just a twenty-four-hour bug,” says Old Nick.

“It’s been more like thirty hours already. He’s got chills, he’s burning up—”

“Give him one of those headache pills.”

“What do you think I’ve been trying all day? He just pukes them up again. He can’t even keep water down.” Old Nick puffs his breath. “Let’s have a look at him.”

“No,” says Ma.

“Come on, get out of the way—”

“No, I said no—”

I keep my face in the pillow, it’s sticky. My eyes are shut. Old Nick’s there, right by Bed, he can see me. I feel his hand on my cheek, I make a sound because I’m so scared, Ma said it would be my forehead but it isn’t, it’s my cheek he’s touching and his hand isn’t like Ma’s, it’s cold and heavy — Then it’s gone. “I’ll get him something stronger from the all-night drugstore.”

“Something stronger? He’s barely five years old, he’s totally dehydrated, with a fever of God knows what.” Ma’s shouting, she shouldn’t shout, Old Nick’s going to get mad.

“Just shut up for a second and let me think.”

“He needs to go to the ER right now, that’s what he needs and you know it.”

Old Nick makes a sound, I don’t know what it means.

Ma’s voice is like she’s crying. “If you don’t bring him in now, he’ll, he could—”

“Enough with the hysterics,” he says.

“Please. I’m begging you.”

“No way.”

I nearly say Jose. I think it but I don’t say it, I’m not saying anything, I’m just being limp all Gone.

“Just tell them he’s an illegal alien with no papers,” says Ma, “he’s in no state to say a word, you can drive him right back here as soon as they’ve got some fluids into him . . .” Her voice is moving after him. “Please. I’ll do anything.”

“There’s no talking to you.” He sounds like he’s over by Door.

“Don’t go. Please, please . . .”

Something falls down. I’m so scared I’m never opening my eyes.

Ma’s wailing. The beep beep. Boom, Door’s shut, we’re on our own.

It’s all quiet. I count my teeth five times, always twenty except one time it’s nineteen but I count again till it’s twenty. I peek sideways. Then I lift my head off the stinky pillow.

Ma’s sitting on Rug with her back against Door Wall. She’s staring at nothing. I whisper, “Ma?” She does the strangest thing, she sort of smiles.

“Did I mess up the pretending?”

“Oh, no. You were a star.”

“But he didn’t take me to the hospital.”

“That’s OK.” Ma gets up and wets a cloth in Sink, she comes to wipe my face.

“But you said.” All that burning face and vomit and him touching me. “Sick, Truck, Hospital, Police, Save Ma.” Ma’s nodding, she lifts my T-shirt off and wipes my chest. “That was Plan A, it was worth a try. But like I figured, he was too scared.” She’s got it wrong. “He was scared?”

“Just in case you’d tell the doctors about Room and the police would put him in jail. I hoped he’d risk it, if he thought you were in serious danger — but I never really thought he would.”

I get it. “You tricked me,” I roar. “I didn’t get to ride in the brown truck.”

“Jack,” she says, she’s pressing me against her, her bones hurt my face.

I push away. “You said no more lying and you were unlying now, but then you lied again.”

“I’m doing my best,” says Ma.

I suck on my lip.

“Listen. Will you listen to me for a minute?”

“I’m sick of listening to you.”

She nods. “I know. But listen anyway. There’s a Plan B. Plan A was really the first part of Plan B.” “You never said.”

“It’s pretty complicated. I’ve been puzzling over it for a few days now.”

“Yeah, well I’ve got millions of brains for puzzling.”

“You do,” says Ma.

“Way more than you.”

“That’s true. But I didn’t want you to have to hold both plans in your head at the same time, you might get confused.” “I’m confused already, I’m one hundred percent confused.”

She kisses me through my hair that’s all sticky. “Let me tell you about Plan B.”

“I don’t want to hear your stinky dumb plans.”

“OK.”

I’m shivering from having no T-shirt on. I find a clean one in Dresser, a blue.

We get into Bed, the smell is awful. Ma shows me to breathe through my mouth only because mouths don’t smell anything. “Can we lie with our heads the other way?” “Brilliant idea,” says Ma.

She’s being nice but I’m not going to forgive her.

We put our feet at the stinky wall end and our faces at the other.

I think I’m never going to switch off.

It’s 08:21 already, I slept for long and now I’m having some, the left is so creamy. Old Nick didn’t come back I don’t think.

“Is it Saturday?” I ask.

“That’s right.”

“Cool, we wash our hair.”

Ma shakes her head. “You can’t smell clean.”

I was forgetting for a minute. “What is it?”

“What?”

“Plan B.”

“Are you ready to hear it now?”

I don’t say anything.

“Well. Here goes.” Ma clears her throat. “I’ve been going over it and over it every which way, I think it just might work. I don’t know, I can’t be sure, it sounds crazy and I know it’s incredibly dangerous but—”

“Just tell me,” I say.

“OK, OK.” She takes a loud breath. “Do you remember the Count of Monte Cristo?”

“He was locked up in a dungeon on an island.”

“Yeah, but remember how he got out? He pretended to be his dead friend, he hid in the shroud and the guards threw him into the sea but the Count didn’t drown, he wriggled out and swam away.”

“Tell the rest of the story.”

Ma waves her hand. “It doesn’t matter. The point is, Jack, that’s what you’re going to do.”

“Get thrown in the sea?”

“No, escape like the Count of Monte Cristo.”

I’m confused again. “I don’t have a dead friend.”

“I just mean you’ll be disguised as dead.”

I stare at her.

“Actually it’s more like a play I saw in high school. This girl Juliet, to run away with the boy she loved, she pretended she was dead by drinking medicine, then a few days later she woke up, ta-da.”

“No, that’s Baby Jesus.”

“Ah — not really.” Ma rubs her forehead. “He was actually dead for three days, then he came back to life. You’re not going to be dead at all, just pretending like the girl in the play.”

“I don’t know to pretend I’m a girl.”

“No, pretending you’re dead.” Ma’s voice is a bit cranky.

“We don’t have a shroud.”

“Aha, we’re going to use the rug.”

I stare down at Rug, all her red and black and brown zigzag pattern.

“When Old Nick comes back — tonight, or tomorrow night, or whenever — I’m going to tell him you died, I’m going to show him the rug all rolled up with you inside it.”

That’s the craziest thing I ever heard. “Why?”

“Because your body didn’t have enough water left, and I guess the fever stopped your heart.” “No, why in Rug?”

“Ah,” says Ma, “smart question. It’s your disguise, so he doesn’t guess you’re actually alive. See, you did a super job of pretending to be sick last night, but dead is much harder. If he notices you breathing even one time, he’ll know it’s a trick. Besides, dead people are really cold.” “We could use a bag of cold water . . .”

She shakes her head. “Cold all over, not just your face. Oh, and they go stiff as well, you’ll need to lie like you’re a robot.” “Not floppy?”

“The opposite of floppy.”

But it’s him that’s the robot, Old Nick, I have a heart.

“So I think wrapping you up in the rug is the only way to keep him from guessing you’re actually alive. Then I’ll tell him he has to take you somewhere and bury you, see?”

My mouth’s starting to shake. “Why he has to bury me?”

“Because dead bodies start to get stinky fast.”

Room’s pretty stinky already today from not flushing and the vomity pillow and all. “ ‘The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out . . .’ ” “Exactly.”

“I don’t want to get buried and gooey with the worms crawling.”

Ma strokes my head. “It’s just a trick, remember?”

“Like a game.”

“But no laughing. A serious game.”

I nod. I think I’m going to cry.

“Believe me,” says Ma. “If there was anything else I thought had a chance in hell . . .”

I don’t know what a chance in hell is.

“OK.” Ma gets out of Bed. “Let me tell you how it’s going to be and then you won’t be so scared. Old Nick will tap in the numbers to open the door, then he’ll carry you out of Room all rolled up in the rug.”

“Will you be in Rug too?” I know the answer but I ask just in case.

“I’ll be right here, waiting,” says Ma. “He’ll carry you to his pickup truck, he’ll put you in the back of it, the open bit—” “I want to wait here too.”

She puts her finger on my mouth to shush me. “And that’s your chance.”

“What is?”

“The truck! The first time it slows down at a stop sign, you’re going to wriggle out of the rug, jump down onto the street, run away, and bring the police to rescue me.” I stare at her.

“So this time the plan is Dead, Truck, Run, Police, Save Ma. Say it?”

“Dead, Truck, Run, Police, Save Ma.”

We have our breakfast, 125 cereal each because we need extra strength. I’m not hungry but Ma says I should eat them all up.

Then we get dressed and practice the dead bit. It’s like the strangest Phys Ed we ever played. I lie down on the edge of Rug and Ma wraps her over me and tells me to go on my front, then my back, then my front, then my back again, till I’m all rolled up tight. It smells funny in Rug, dusty and something, different from if I lie just on her.

Ma picks me up, I’m squished. She says I’m like a long, heavy package, but Old Nick will lift me easily because he has more muscles. “He’ll carry you up the backyard, probably into his garage, like this—” I feel us going around Room. I’m scrunched in my neck but I don’t move one bit. “Or maybe over his shoulder like this —” She heaves me, she grunts, I’m being pressed in half.

“Is it a long long ways?”

“What’s that?”

My words are getting lost in Rug.

“Hang on,” says Ma, “I just thought, he might put you down a couple of times, to open doors.” She sets me down, my head end first.

“Ow.”

“But you won’t make a sound, will you?”

“Sorry.” Rug’s on my face, she’s itching my nose but I can’t reach it.

“He’ll drop you into the flatbed of his truck, like this.”

She drops me thump, I bite my mouth to not shout.

“Stay stiff, stiff, stiff, like a robot, OK, no matter what happens?”

“OK.”

“Because if you go soft or move or make a single sound, Jack, if you do any of that by mistake, he’ll know you’re really alive, and he’ll be so mad he—” “What?” I wait. “Ma. What’ll he do?”

“Don’t worry, he’s going to believe you’re dead.”

How does she know for sure?

“Then he’ll get in the front of his truck and start driving.”

“Where?”

“Ah, out of the city, probably. Somewhere there’s no people to see him digging a hole, like a forest or something. But the thing is, as soon as the engine starts — it’ll feel loud and buzzy and shaky like this”—she blows a raspberry on me through Rug, raspberries usually make me laugh but not now—“that’s your signal to start getting out of the rug. Try it?”

I wriggle, but I can’t, it’s too tight. “I’m stuck. I’m stuck, Ma.”

She unrolls me right away. I breathe lots of air.

“OK?”

“OK.”

She smiles at me but it’s a weird smile like she’s pretending. Then she rolls me up again a bit looser.

“Still squishes.”

“Sorry, I didn’t think it would be so stiff. Hang on—” Ma undoes me again. “Hey, try folding your arms with your elbows stuck out a bit to make some room.”

This time after she rolls me up with folded arms, I can get them over my head, I wave my fingers out the end of Rug.

“Great. Try wriggling up now, like it’s a tunnel.”

“It’s too tight.” I don’t know how the Count did it while he was drowning. “Let me out.”

“Hang on a minute.”

“Let me out now!”

“If you keep panicking,” says Ma, “our plan’s not going to work.”

I’m crying again, Rug’s wet on my face. “Out!”

Rug unrolls, I’m breathing again.

Ma puts her hand on my face but I throw it off.

“Jack—”

“No.”

“Listen.”

“Numbskull Plan B.”

“I know it’s scary. You think I don’t know? But we have to try it.”

“No we don’t. Not till I’m six.”

“There’s a thing called foreclosure.”

“What?” I’m staring at Ma.

“It’s hard to explain.” She lets out her breath. “Old Nick doesn’t really own his house, the bank does. And if he’s lost his job and he doesn’t have any money left and he stops paying them, the bank — they’ll get mad and they might try and take his house away.” I wonder how a bank would do it. Maybe with a giant digger? “With Old Nick inside it,” I ask, “like Dorothy when the tornado picked her house up?” “Listen to me.” Ma holds my elbows hard so they nearly hurt. “What I’m trying to tell you is that he’d never let anybody come in his house or his backyard because then they’d find Room, wouldn’t they?”

“And rescue us!”

“No, he’d never let that happen.”

“What would he do?”

Ma’s sucking in her lips so she doesn’t have any. “The point is, we need to escape before that. You’re going to get back in the rug now and practice some more till you get the knack of the wriggling out.”

“No.”

“Jack, please—”

“I’m too scared,” I shout. “I won’t do it not ever and I hate you.”

Ma’s breathing funny, she sits down on Floor. “That’s all right.”

How is it all right if I hate her?

Her hands are on her tummy. “I brought you into Room, I didn’t mean to but I did it and I’ve never once been sorry.” I stare at her and she stares back.

“I brought you here, and tonight I’m going to get you out.”

“OK.”

I say it very small but she hears. She nods.

“And you, with the blowtorch. One at a time but both.”

Ma’s still nodding. “You’re the one who matters, though. Just you.”

I shake my head till it’s wobbling because there’s no just me.

We look at each other not smiling.

“Ready to get back in the rug?”

I nod. I lie down, Ma rolls me up extra tight. “I can’t—”

“Sure you can.” I feel her patting me through Rug.

“I can’t, I can’t.”

“Could you count to one hundred for me?”

I do, easy, very fast.

“You sound calmer already. We’re going to figure this out in a minute,” says Ma. “Hmm. I wonder — if the wriggling’s not working, could you sort of . . . unwrap yourself instead?”

“But I’m on the inside.”

“I know, but you can reach out the top with your hands and find the corner. Let’s try that.” I feel around till I get something that’s pointy.

“That’s it,” says Ma. “Great, now pull. Not that way, the other way, so you feel it coming loose. Like peeling a banana.” I do just a bit.

“You’re lying on the edge, you’re weighing it down.”

“Sorry.” The tears are coming back.

“You don’t have to be sorry, you’re doing great. What if you rolled?”

“Which way?”

“Whichever way feels looser. On your tummy, maybe, then find the edge of the rug again and pull it.” “I can’t.”

I do it. I get one elbow out.

“Excellent,” says Ma. “You’ve really loosened it at the top. Hey, what about sitting up, do you think you could sit up?” It hurts and it’s impossible.

I get sitting up and both my elbows are out and Rug’s coming undone around my face. I can pull her all off. “I did it,” I shout, “I’m the banana.” “You’re the banana,” says Ma. She kisses me on my face that’s all wet. “Now let’s try that again.” When I’m so tired I have to stop, Ma tells me how it’ll be in Outside. “Old Nick will be driving down the street. You’re in the back, the open bit of the truck, so he can’t see you, OK? Grab hold of the edge of the truck so you don’t fall over, because it’ll be moving fast, like this.” She pulls me and wobbles me side to side. “Then when he puts the brakes on, you’ll feel sort of — yanked the other way, as the truck slows down. That means a stop sign, where drivers have to stop for a second.” “Even him?”

“Oh, yeah. So as soon as you feel like the truck’s hardly moving anymore, then it’s safe for you to jump over the side.” Into Outer Space. I don’t say it, I know that’s wrong.

“You’ll land on the pavement, it’ll be hard like—” She looks around. “Like ceramic, but rougher. And then you run, run, run, like GingerJack.” “The fox ate GingerJack.”

“OK, bad example,” says Ma. “But this time it’s us who’re the tricksy trickers. ‘Jack be nimble, Jack be quick—’ ” “ ‘Jack jump over the candlestick.’ ”

“You have to run along the street, away from the truck, super fast, like — remember that cartoon we saw once, Road Runner?” “Tom and Jerry, they run as well.”

Ma is nodding. “All that matters is, don’t let Old Nick catch you. Oh, but try and get onto the sidewalk if you can, the bit that’s higher, then a car won’t knock you down. And you need to be screaming as well, so somebody will help you.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know, anybody.”

“Who’s anybody?”

“Just run up to the first person you see. Or — it’ll be pretty late.

Maybe there’ll be nobody out walking.” She’s biting her thumb, the nail of it, I don’t tell her to stop. “If you don’t see anybody, you’ll have to wave at a car to make it stop, and tell the people in it that you and your ma have been kidnapped. Or if there’s no cars — oh, man — I guess you’ll have to run up to a house — any house that’s got lights on — and bang on the door as hard as you can with your fists. But only a house with lights on, not an empty one. It has to be the front door, will you know which that is?”

“The one at the front.”

“Try it now?” Ma waits. “Talk to them just like you talk to me. Pretend I’m them. What do you say?” “Me and you have—”

“No, pretend I’m the people in the house, or in the car, or on the sidewalk, tell them you and your Ma . . .” I try again. “You and your ma—”

“No, you say, ‘My Ma and I . . . ’ ”

“You and me—”

She puffs her breath. “OK, never mind, just give them the note — is the note still safe?”

I look in my underwear. “It’s disappeared!” Then I feel it where it slid around in between my butt. I take it out and show her.

“Keep it at the front. If by any chance you drop it, you can just tell them, ‘I’ve been kidnapped.’ Say it, just like that.” “I’ve been kidnapped.”

“Say it good and loud so they can hear.”

“I’ve been kidnapped,” I shout.

“Fantastic. And they’ll call the police,” says Ma, “and — I guess the police will look in the backyards all around till they find Room.” Her face isn’t very certain.

“With the blowtorch,” I remember her.

We practice and practice. Dead, Truck, Wriggle Out, Jump, Run, Somebody, Note, Police, Blowtorch. That’s nine things. I don’t think I can keep them in my head all at the same time. Ma says of course I can, I’m her superhero, Mr. Five.

I wish I was still four.

For lunch I get to choose because it’s a special day, it’s our last one in Room. That’s what Ma says but I don’t actually believe it. I’m suddenly starving hungry, I choose macaroni and hot dogs and crackers, that’s like three lunches together.

All the time we’re playing Checkers, I’m being scared of our Great Escape, so I lose twice, then I don’t want to play anymore.

We try a nap but we can’t switch off. I have some, the left then the right then the left again till there’s nearly none left.

We don’t want any dinner neither of us. I have to put the vomity T-shirt back on. Ma says I can keep my socks. “Otherwise the street might be sore on your feet.” She wipes her eye, then the other one. “Wear your thickest pair.”

I don’t know why she’s crying about socks. I go in Wardrobe to find Tooth under my pillow. “I’m going to tuck him down my sock.” Ma shakes her head. “What if you stand on it and hurt your foot?”

“I won’t, he’ll stay right here at the side.”

It’s 06:13, that’s getting nearly to be the evening. Ma says I really should be wrapped up in Rug already, Old Nick might possibly come in early because of me being sick.

“Not yet.”

“Well . . .”

“Please not.”

“Sit right here, OK, so I can wrap you up in a rush if we need to.”

We say the plan over and over to practice me of the nine. Dead, Truck, Wriggle Out, Jump, Run, Somebody, Note, Police, Blowtorch.

I keep twitching every time I hear the beep beep but it’s not real, just imagining. I’m staring at Door, he’s all shiny like a dagger. “Ma?” “Yeah?”

“Let’s do it tomorrow night instead.”

She leans over and hugs me tight. That means no.

I’m hating her again a bit.

“If I could do it for you, I would.”

“Why can’t you?”

She’s shaking her head. “I’m so sorry it has to be you and it has to be now. But I’ll be there in your head, remember? I’ll be talking to you every minute.”

We go over Plan B lots more times. “What if he opens Rug?” I ask. “Just to look at me dead?” Ma doesn’t say anything for a minute. “You know how hitting is bad?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, tonight is a special case. I really don’t think he will, he’ll be in a hurry to, to get the whole thing over with, but if by any chance — what you do is, hit him as hard as you can.”

Wow.

“Kick him, bite him, poke him in the eyes—” Her fingers stab the air. “Anything at all so you can get away.” I can’t believe this hardly. “Am I allowed kill him even?”

Ma runs over to Cabinet where the things dry after washing up. She picks up Smooth Knife.

I look at his shine, I think about the story of Ma putting him on Old Nick’s throat.

“Do you think you could hold this tight, inside the rug, and if —” She stares at Smooth Knife. Then she puts him back with the forks on Dish Rack. “What was I thinking?”

How would I know if she doesn’t?

“You’ll stab yourself,” says Ma.

“No I won’t.”

“You will, Jack, how could you not, you’ll cut yourself to ribbons, lashing around inside a rug with a bare blade — I think I’m losing my mind.” I shake my head. “It’s right here.” I tap on her hair.

Ma strokes my back.

I check Tooth is in my sock, the note is in my underwear at the front. We sing to make the time go, but quietly. “Lose Yourself” and “Tubthumping” and “Home on the Range.”

“ ‘Where the deer and the antelope play—,’ ” I sing.

“ ‘Where seldom is heard a discouraging word—’ ”

“ ‘And the skies are not cloudy all day.’ ”

“It’s time,” says Ma, holding Rug open.

I don’t want to. I lie down and put my hands on my shoulders and my elbows sticking out. I wait for Ma to roll me up.

Instead she just looks at me. My feet my legs my arms my head, her eyes keep sliding over my whole me like she’s counting.

“What?” I say.

She doesn’t say a word. She leans over, she doesn’t even kiss me, she just touches her face to mine till I can’t tell whose is whose. My chest is going dangadangadang. I won’t let go of her.

“OK,” says Ma, her voice all scratchy. “We’re scave, aren’t we? We’re totally scave. See you outside.” She puts my arms the special way with my elbows sticking out. She folds Rug over me and the light’s gone.

I’m rolled up in the itchy dark.

“Not too tight?”

I try if I can get my arms up above my head and back, scraping a bit.

“OK?”

“OK,” I say.

Then we just wait. Something comes in the top of Rug and rubs my hair, it’s her hand, I know without seeing even. I can hear my breathing that’s noisy. I think about the Count in the bag with the worms crawling in. The fall down down down crash into the sea. Can worms swim?

Dead, Truck, Run, Somebody—no, Wriggle Out, then Jump, Run, Somebody, Note, Blowtorch. I forgot Police before Blowtorch, it’s too complicated, I’m going to mess it all up and Old Nick will bury me for real and Ma will be waiting always.

After a long while I whisper, “Is he coming or no?”

“I don’t know,” says Ma. “How could he not? If he’s the least bit human . . .”

I thought humans were or weren’t, I didn’t know someone could be a bit human. Then what are his other bits?

I wait and wait. I can’t feel my arms. Rug’s lying against my nose, I want to scratch. I try and try and I reach it. “Ma?” “Right here.”

“Me too.”

Beep beep.

I jump, I’m supposed to be dead but I can’t help it, I want to get out of Rug right now but I’m stuck and I can’t even try or he’ll see — Something pressing on me, that must be Ma’s hand. She needs me to be Super Prince JackerJack, so I stay extra still. No more moving, I’m Corpse, I’m the Count, no, I’m his friend even deader, I’m all stiff like a broken robot with a power cut.

“Here you go.” That’s Old Nick’s voice. He sounds like always. He doesn’t even know what’s happened about me dying. “Antibiotics, only just past the sell-by. For a kid you break them in half, the guy said.”

Ma doesn’t answer.

“Where is he, in the wardrobe?”

That’s me, the he.

“Is he in the rug? Are you crazy, wrapping a sick kid up like that?”

“You didn’t come back,” Ma says and her voice is really weird. “He got worse in the night and this morning he wouldn’t wake up.” Nothing. Then Old Nick makes a funny sound. “Are you sure?”

“Am I sure?” Ma shrieks it, but I don’t move, I don’t move, I’m all stiff no hearing no seeing no nothing.

“Ah, no.” I hear his breath all long. “That’s just terrible. You poor girl, you—”

Nobody says anything for a minute.

“Guess it must have been something really serious,” says Old Nick, “the pills wouldn’t have worked anyway.” “You killed him.” Ma’s howling.

“Come on now, calm down.”

“How can I calm down when Jack’s—” She’s breathing strange, her words come out like gulping. She’s pretending so really I nearly believe it.

“Let me.” His voice is very near, I go tight and stiff stiff stiff.

“Don’t touch him.”

“OK, OK.” Then Old Nick says, “You can’t keep him here.”

“My baby!”

“I know, it’s a terrible thing. But I’ve got to take him away now.”

“No.”

“How long’s it been?” he asks. “This morning, you said? Maybe in the night? He must be starting to — it’s not healthy, keeping him here. I better take him and, and find a place.”

“Not in the backyard.” Ma’s talking is nearly a growl.

“OK.”

“If you put him in the backyard — You never should have done that, it’s too close. If you bury him there I’ll hear him crying.” “I said OK.”

“You have to drive him a long way away, all right?”

“All right. Let me—”

“Not yet.” She’s crying and crying. “You mustn’t disturb him.”

“I’ll keep him all wrapped up.”

“Don’t you dare lay a finger—”

“All right.”

“Swear you won’t even look at him with your filthy eyes.”

“OK.”

“Swear.”

“I swear, OK?”

I’m dead dead dead.

“I’ll know,” says Ma, “I’ll know if you put him in the backyard, and I’ll scream every time that door opens, I’ll tear the place apart, I swear I’ll never be quiet again. You’ll have to kill me too to shut me up, I just don’t care anymore.” Why is she telling him to kill her?

“Take it easy.” Old Nick sounds like he’s talking to a dog. “I’m going to pick him up now and carry him to the truck, OK?” “Gently. Find somewhere nice,” says Ma, she’s crying so much I can hardly hear what she’s saying. “Somewhere with trees or something.” “Sure. Time to go now.”

I’m grabbed through Rug, I’m squeezed, it’s Ma, she says, “Jack, Jack, Jack.”

Then I’m lifted. I think it’s her and then I know it’s him. Don’t move don’t move don’t move JackerJack stay stiff stiff stiff. I’m squished in Rug, I can’t breathe right, but dead don’t breathe anyway. Don’t let him unwrap me. I wish I had Smooth Knife.

The beep beep again, then the click, that means Door is open. The ogre’s got me, fee fie foe fum. Hot on my legs, oh no, Penis let some pee out. And also a bit of poo squirted out my bum, Ma never said this would happen. Stinky. Sorry, Rug. A grunt near my ear, Old Nick’s got me tight. I’m so scared I can’t be brave, stop stop stop but I can’t make a sound or he’ll guess the trick and he’ll eat me headfirst, he’ll rip off my legs . . .

I count my teeth but I keep losing count, nineteen, twenty-one, twenty-two. I am Prince Robot Super JackerJack Mr. Five, I don’t move. Are you there, Tooth? I can’t feel you but you must be in my sock, at the side. You’re a bit of Ma, a little bit of Ma’s dead spit riding along with me.

I can’t feel my arms.

The air’s different. Still the dustiness of Rug but when I lift my nose a tiny bit I get this air that’s . . .

Outside.

Could I be?

Not moving. Old Nick’s just standing. Why is he standing still in the backyard? What’s he going to—?

Moving again. I stay stiff stiff stiff.

Owwww, down onto something hard. I don’t think I made a sound, I didn’t hear one. I think I bit my mouth, it’s got that taste that’s blood.

There’s another beep but a different. A rattling like all metals. Up again, then crash down, on my face, ow ow ow. Bang. Then everything starts to shake and throb and roar under my front, it’s an earthquake . . .

No, it’s the truck, it must be. It’s not a bit like a raspberry, it’s a million times more. Ma! I’m shouting in my head. Dead, Truck, that’s two of the nine. I’m in the back of the brown pickup truck just like in the story.

I’m not in Room. Am I still me?

Moving now. I’m zooming along in the truck for real for really real.

Oh, I have to Wriggle Out, I was forgetting. I start to do like a snake, but Rug’s got tighter I don’t know how, I’m stuck I’m stuck. Ma Ma Ma . . . I can’t get out like we practiced even though we practiced and practiced, it’s all gone wrong, sorry. Old Nick’s going to take me to a place and bury me and the worms crawl in the worms crawl out . . . I’m crying again, my nose is running, my arms are knotted under my chest, I’m fighting Rug because she’s not my friend anymore, I’m kicking like Karate but she’s got me, she’s the shroud for the corpses to fall in the sea . . .

Sound’s quieter. Not moving. The truck’s stopped.

It’s a stop, it’s a stop sign stop, that means I’m meant to be doing Jump that’s five on the list but I didn’t do three yet, if I can’t wriggle out how can I jump? I can’t get to four five six seven eight or nine, I’m stuck on three, he’s going to bury me with the worms . . .

Moving again, vrum vrum.

I get one hand up over my face that’s all snotty, my hand scrapes out the top and I drag my other arm up. My fingers grab the new air, something cold, something metal, a thing else that’s not metal with bumps on it. I grab and pull pull pull and kick and my knee, ow ow ow. No good, no use. Find the corner, is that Ma talking in my head like she said or am I just remembering? I feel all the way around Rug and there’s no corner on her, then I find it and pull, it comes loose just a bit I think. I roll on my back but that’s even tighter and I can’t find the corner anymore.

Stopped, the truck’s stopped again, I’m not out already, I was meant to jump at the first. I pull Rug down until she’s going to break my elbow and I can see a huge dazzling, then it’s gone because the truck’s moving again vrummmmm.

I think that was Outside I saw, Outside is real and so bright but I can’t—

Ma’s not here, no time to cry, I’m Prince JackerJack, I have to be JackerJack or the worms crawl in. I’m on my front again, I bend my knees and stick my butt up, I’m going to burst right through Rug and she’s looser now, she’s coming off my face—

I can breathe all the lovely black air. I’m sitting up and unwrapping Rug like I’m a smushed kind of banana. My ponytail’s come out, there’s all hair in my eyes. I’m finding my legs one and two, I get my whole self out, I did it, I did it, I wish Dora could see me, she’d sing the “We Did It” song.

Another light whizzing by over. Things sliding in the sky that I think they’re trees. And houses and lights on giant poles and some cars everything zooming. It’s like a cartoon I’m inside but messier. I’m holding on to the edge of the truck, it’s all hard and cold. The sky is the most enormous, over there there’s a pink orange bit but the rest is gray. When I look down, the street is black and a long long way. I know to jump good but not when everything’s roaring and bumping and the lights all blurry and the air so strange smells like apple or something. My eyes aren’t working right, I’m too scared to be scave.

The truck’s stopped again. I can’t jump, I just can’t move. I manage to stand up and I look over but — I’m slipping and crashing across the truck, my head hits on something sore, I shout by accident arghhhhhh—Stopped again.

A metal sound. Old Nick’s face. He’s out of the truck with the maddest face I ever saw and—

Jump.

The ground breaks my feet smash my knee hits me in the face but I’m running running running, where’s Somebody, Ma said to scream to a somebody or a car or a lighted house, I see a car but dark inside and anyway nothing comes out of my mouth that’s full of my hair but I keep running GingerJack be nimble be quick. Ma’s not here but she promised she’s in my head going run run run. A roaring behind me that’s him, it’s Old Nick coming to tear me in half fee fie foe fum, I have to find Somebody to shout help help but there isn’t a somebody, there’s no somebody, I’m going to have to keep running forever but my breath is used up and I can’t see and — A bear.

A wolf?

A dog, is a dog a somebody?

Somebody coming behind the dog but it’s a very small person, a baby walking, it’s pushing something that has wheels with a smaller baby inside. I can’t remember what to shout, I’m on mute, I just keep running at them. The baby laughs, it has nearly no hair. The tiny one in the push-thing isn’t a real one, I think, it’s a doll. The dog is small but a real one, it’s doing a poo on the ground, I never saw TV dogs do that. A person comes up behind the baby and picks up the poo in a bag like it’s a treasure, I think it’s a he, the somebody with short hair like Old Nick but curlier and he’s browner than the baby. I go, “Help,” but it doesn’t come out very loud. I’m running till I’m nearly at them and the dog barks and jumps up and eats me—

I open my mouth for the widest scream but no sound comes out.

“Raja!”

Red on my finger all spots.

“Raja, down.” The man person’s got the dog by the neck.

My blood’s falling out of my hand.

Then bam grabbed from behind, it’s Old Nick, his giant hands on my ribs. I messed up, he catched me, sorry sorry sorry Ma. He’s lifting me up. I scream then, I scream no words even. He’s got me under his arm, he’s carrying me back to the truck, Ma said I could hit, I could kill him, I hit and hit but I can’t reach, it’s only me I’m hitting—

“Excuse me,” calls the person holding the poo bag. “Hey, mister?” His voice isn’t deep, it’s softer.

Old Nick turns us around. I’m forgetting to scream.

“I’m so sorry, is your little girl OK?”

What little girl?

Old Nick clears his throat, he’s still carrying me to the truck but walking backwards. “Fine.” “Raja’s usually really gentle, but she came at him out of nowhere . . .”

“Just a tantrum,” says Old Nick.

“Hey. Wait up, I think her hand’s bleeding.”

I look at my eaten finger, the blood’s making drops.

Then he has picked the baby person up now, he’s holding it on his arm and the poo bag in the other hand and he’s looking really confused.

Old Nick stands me down, he’s got his fingers on my shoulders so they’re burning. “It’s under control.” “And her knee too, that looks bad. Raja didn’t do that. Has she had a fall?” asks the man.

“I’m not a her,” I say but only inside my throat.

“Why don’t you mind your own business and I’ll mind mine?” Old Nick’s nearly growling.

Ma, Ma, I need you for talking. She’s not in my head anymore, she’s not anywhere. She wrote the note, I was forgetting, I put my not eaten hand in my underwear and I can’t find the note but then I do, it’s all peed. I can’t talk but I wave it at the somebody man.

Old Nick rips it out of my hand and makes it disappear.

“OK, I don’t — I don’t like this,” says the man. He’s got a little phone in his hand, where did it come from? He’s saying, “Yes, police, please.”

It’s happening just like Ma said, we’re at eight that’s Police already and I haven’t even showed the Note or said about Room, I’m doing it backwards. I’m meant to talk to the somebody just like they’re human. I start to say, “I’ve been kidnapped,” but it only comes out whispery because Old Nick’s picked me up again, he’s heading for the truck, he’s running, I’m all shaking to pieces, I can’t find to hit, he’s going to—“I’ve got your plates, mister!”

That’s the man person screaming, is he shouting at me? What plates?

“K nine three—” He’s shouting numbers, why is he shouting numbers?

Suddenly arghhhhhh the street bangs me in the tummy hands face, Old Nick’s running away but without me. He dropped me. He’s farther off every second. Those must be magic numbers to make him drop me.

I try to get up but I can’t remember how.

A noise like a monster, the truck’s vrummmming and coming at me rrrrrrrrrrr, it’s going to crush me down to smithereens on the pavement, I don’t know how where what — the baby crying, I never heard a real baby cry before—

The truck’s gone. It just drove past, around the corner without stopping. I hear it for a bit, then I don’t hear it anymore.

The higher bit, the sidewalk, Ma said to get on the sidewalk. I have to crawl but with my bad knee not putting down. The sidewalk’s all in big squares, scrapy.

A terrible smell. The dog’s nose is right beside me, it’s come back to chew me up, I scream.

“Raja.” The man pulls the dog away. The man’s squatting down, he’s got the baby on one of his knees, it’s wriggling. He doesn’t have the poo bag anymore. Looks like a TV person but nearer and wider and with smells, a bit like Dish Soap and mint and curry all together. His hand that’s not holding the dog tries to get on me but I roll away just in time. “It’s OK, sweetie. It’s OK.”

Who’s sweetie? His eyes are looking at my eyes, it’s me that’s the sweetie. I can’t look, it’s too weird having him seeing me and talking at me.

“What’s your name?”

TV people never ask things except Dora and she knows my name already.

“Can you tell me what you’re called?”

Ma said to talk to the somebody, that’s my job. I try and nothing comes out. I lick my mouth. “Jack.” “What’s that?” He bends nearer, I curl up with my head in my arms. “It’s OK, no one’s going to hurt you. Tell me your name a little louder?” It’s easier to say if I don’t look at him. “Jack.”

“Jackie?”

“Jack.”

“Oh. Right, sorry. Your dad’s gone now, Jack.”

What’s he saying about?

The baby starts pulling at his, the thing over his shirt, it’s a jacket. “I’m Ajeet, by the way,” the man person says, “and this is my daughter — hang on, Naisha. Jack needs a Band-Aid for that ouchy on his knee, let’s see if . . .” He’s feeling in all the bits of his bag. “Raja’s really sorry he bit you.” The dog doesn’t look sorry, he’s got all pointy dirty teeth. Did he drink my blood like a vampire?

“You don’t look too good, Jack, have you been sick lately?”

I shake my head. “Ma.”

“What’s that?”

“Ma throwed up on my T-shirt.”

The baby’s talking more but not in language. She’s grabbing the Raja dog’s ears, why isn’t she scared of him?

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that,” says the Ajeet man.

I don’t say anything else.

“The police should be here any minute, OK?” He’s turned to look up the street, the Naisha baby’s crying a bit now. He bounces her on his knee. “Home to Ammi in a minute, home to bed.”

I think about Bed. The warm.

He’s pressing the little buttons on his phone and talking more but I don’t listen.

I want to get away. But I think if I move, the Raja dog will bite me and drink more of my blood. I’m sitting on a line so there’s some of me in one square and some in another. My eaten finger hurts and hurts and so does my knee, the right one, there’s blood coming out of it where the skin broke, it was red but it’s going black. There’s a pointy oval beside my foot, I try to pick it up but it’s stuck, then it comes in my fingers, it’s a leaf. It’s a leaf from a real tree like the one that was on Skylight that day. I look up, there’s a tree over me that must have dropped the leaf. The huge light pole is blinding me. The whole bigness of the sky behind it is black now, the pink and orange bits are gone where? The air’s moving in my face, I’m shaking by accident.

“You must be cold. Are you cold?”

I think it’s the baby Naisha that the Ajeet man is asking but it’s me, I know because he’s taking off his jacket and holding it out to me.

“Here.”

I shake my head because it’s a person jacket, I never had a jacket.

“How did you lose your shoes?”

What shoes?

The Ajeet man stops talking after that.

A car stops, I know what kind it is, it’s a cop car from TV. Persons get out, two of them, short hair, one black hair one yellowy hair, and all moving quick. Ajeet talks to them. The baby Naisha is trying to get away but he keeps her in his arms, not hurting I don’t think. Raja is lying down on some brownish stuff, it’s grass, I thought it would be green, there’s some squares of it all along the sidewalk. I wish I had the note still but Old Nick disappeared it. I don’t know the words, they got bumped out of my head.

Ma’s in Room still, I want her here so much much much. Old Nick ran off driving fast in his truck but where’s he going, not the lake or the trees anymore because he saw me not be dead, I was allowed kill him but I didn’t manage it.

I have a suddenly terrible idea. Maybe he went back to Room, maybe he’s there right now making Door beep beep open and he’s mad, it’s my fault for not being dead—

“Jack?”

I look for the mouth moving. It’s the police, the one that’s a she I think but it’s hard to tell, the black hair not the yellow. She says, “Jack,” again. How does she know? “I’m Officer Oh. Can you tell me how old you are?”

I have to Save Ma, I have to talk to the police to get the Blowtorch, but my mouth isn’t working. She’s got a thing on her belt, it’s a gun, just like a police on TV. What if they’re bad police like locked up Saint Peter, I never thought of that. I look at the belt not the face, it’s a cool belt with a buckle.

“Do you know your age?”

Easy-peasy. I hold up five fingers.

“Five years old, great.” Officer Oh says something I don’t hear. Then about a dress. She says it twice.

I talk as loud as I can but not looking. “I don’t have a dress.”

“No? Where do you sleep at night?”

“In Wardrobe.”

“In a wardrobe?”

Try, Ma’s saying in my head, but Old Nick’s beside her, he’s the maddest ever and—

“Did you say, in a wardrobe?”

“You’ve got three dresses,” I say. “I mean Ma. One is pink and one is green with stripes and one is brown but you — she prefers jeans.” “Your ma, is that what you said?” asks Officer Oh. “Is that who’s got the dresses?”

Nodding’s easier.

“Where’s your ma tonight?”

“In Room.”

“In a room, OK,” she says. “Which room?”

“Room.”

“Can you tell us where it is?”

I remember something. “Not on any map.”

She does a breath out, I don’t think my answers are any good.

The other police is a he maybe, I never saw hair like that for real, it’s nearly see-through. He says, “We’re at Navaho and Alcott, got a disturbed juvenile, possible domestic.” I think he’s talking to his phone. It’s like playing Parrot, I know the words but I don’t know what they mean. He comes closer to Officer Oh. “Any joy?”

“Slow going.”

“Same with the witness. Suspect’s white male, maybe five ten, forties, fifties, fled the scene in a maroon or dark brown pickup, possibly an F one-fifty or a Ram, starts K nine three, could be a B or a P, no state . . .”

“The man you were with, was that your dad?” Officer Oh is talking to me again.

“I don’t have one.”

“Your Mom’s boyfriend?”

“I don’t have one.” I said that before, am I allowed say twice?

“Do you know his name?”

I make me remember. “Ajeet.”

“No, the other guy, the one who went off in the truck.”

“Old Nick.” I whisper it because he wouldn’t like me saying.

“What’s that?”

“Old Nick.”

“That’s negative,” the man police says at his phone. “Suspect GOA, first name Nick, Nicholas, no second name.” “And what’s your ma called?” asks Officer Oh.

“Ma.”

“Has she got another name?”

I hold up two fingers.

“Two of them? Great. Can you remember what they are?”

They were in the note that he disappeared. I suddenly remember a bit. “He stole us.”

Officer Oh sits down beside me on the ground. It’s not like Floor, it’s all hard and shivery. “Jack, would you like a blanket?” I don’t know. Blanket’s not here.

“You’ve got some nasty cuts there. Did this Nick guy hurt you?”

The man police is back, he holds out a blue thing to me, I don’t touch. “Go ahead,” he says at his phone.

Officer Oh folds the blue thing around me, it’s not fleecy gray like Blanket, it’s rougher. “How did you get those cuts?” “The dog is a vampire.” I look for Raja and his humans but they’re disappeared. “This finger it bit, and my knee was the ground.” “Beg your pardon?”

“The street, it hit me.”

“Go ahead.” The man police says that, he’s talking at his phone again. Then he looks at Officer Oh and says, “Should I get on to Child Protection?” “Give me another couple minutes,” she says. “Jack, I bet you’re good at telling stories.”

How does she know? The man police looks at his watch that he’s got stuck on his wrist. I remember Ma’s wrist that doesn’t work right. Is Old Nick there now, is he twisting her wrist or her neck, is he ripping her in pieces?

“Do you think you could tell me what happened tonight?” Officer Oh grins at me. “And maybe you could talk real slow and clear, because my ears don’t work too well.” Maybe she’s deaf, but she doesn’t talk with her fingers like deafs on TV.

“Copy,” says the man police.

“You ready?” says Officer Oh.

It’s me her eyes are on. I shut mine and pretend it’s Ma I’m talking to, that makes me brave. “We did a trick,” I say very slow, “me and Ma, we were pretending I was sick and then I was dead but really I’ll unwrap myself and jump out of the truck, only I was meant to jump at the first slowing down but I didn’t manage.” “OK, what happened then?” That’s Officer Oh’s voice right beside my head.

I still don’t look or I’ll forget the story. “I had a note in my underwear but he disappeared it. I’ve still got Tooth.” I put my fingers in my sock for him. I open my eyes.

“Can I see that?”

She tries to take Tooth but I don’t let her. “It’s of Ma.”

“That’s your ma that you were talking about?”

I think her brain’s not working like her ears aren’t, how could Ma be a tooth? I shake my head. “Just a bit of her dead spit that fell out.” Officer Oh looks at Tooth up close and her face gets all hard. The man police shakes his head and says something I can’t hear.

“Jack,” she says, “you told me you were supposed to jump out of the truck the first time it slowed down?” “Yeah but I was still in Rug, then I unpeeled the banana but I wasn’t scave enough.” I’m looking at Officer Oh and I’m talking at the same time. “But after the third time stopping, the truck went wooooo—”

“It went what?”

“Like—” I show her. “All a different way.”

“It turned.”

“Yeah, and I got banged and he, Old Nick, he climbed out all mad and that’s when I jumped.”

“Bingo.” Officer Oh claps her hands.

“Huh?” says the man police.

“Three stop signs and a turn. Left or right?” She waits. “Never mind, great job, Jack.” She’s staring down the street and then she’s got a thing in her hand like a phone, where did that come from? She’s watching the little screen, she says, “Get them to cross-ref the partial plates with . . . try Carlingford Avenue, maybe Washington Drive . . .”

I don’t see Raja and Ajeet and Naisha anymore at all. “Did the dog go to jail?”

“No, no,” says Officer Oh, “it was an honest mistake.”

“Go ahead,” the man police tells his phone. He shakes his head at Officer Oh.

She stands up. “Hey, maybe Jack can find the house for us. Would you like a ride in a patrol car?” I can’t get up, she puts out her hand but I pretend I don’t see. I put one foot under then another and I’m up a bit dizzy. At the car I climb in where the door’s open. Officer Oh sits in the back too and clicks the seat belt on me, I go small so her hand doesn’t touch except the blue blanket.

The car’s moving now, not so rattly like the truck, it’s soft and humming. A bit like that couch in the TV planet with the puffy-hair lady asking questions, only it’s Officer Oh. “This room,” she says, “is it in a bungalow, or are there stairs?”

“It’s not a house.” I’m watching the shiny bit in the middle, it’s like Mirror but tiny. I see the man police’s face in it, he’s the driver. His eyes are looking at me backwards in the little mirror so I look out the window instead. Everything’s slipping past making me giddy. There’s all light that comes out of the car onto the road, it paints over everything. Here comes another car, a white one super fast, it’s going to crash into—“It’s OK,” says Officer Oh.

When I take my hands off my face the other car’s gone, did this one disappear it?

“Anything ringing a bell?”

I don’t hear any bells. It’s all trees and houses and cars dark. Ma, Ma, Ma. I don’t hear her in my head, she’s not talking. His hands are so tight around her, tighter tighter tighter, she can’t talk, she can’t breathe, she can’t anything. Alive things bend but she’s bent and bent and—“Does this look like it might be your street?” asks Officer Oh.

“I haven’t got a street.”

“I mean the street this Nick guy took you from tonight.”

“I never saw it.”

“What’s that?”

I’m tired of saying.

Officer Oh clicks with her tongue.

“No sign of any pickups except that black one back there,” says the man police.

“Might as well pull over.”

The car stops, I’m sorry.

“You figure some kind of cult?” he says. “The long hair, no surnames, the state of that tooth . . .” Officer Oh twists her mouth. “Jack, is there daylight in this room of yours?”

“It’s night,” I tell her, didn’t she notice?

“I mean in the daytime. Where does the light come in?”

“Skylight.”

“There’s a skylight, excellent.”

“Go ahead,” the man police says at his phone.

Officer Oh is looking at her shiny screen again. “Sat’s showing a couple houses with attic skylights on Carlingford . . .” “Room’s not in a house,” I say again.

“I’m having trouble understanding, Jack. What’s it in, then?”

“Nothing. Room’s inside.”

Ma’s there and Old Nick too, he wants somebody to be dead and it’s not me.

“So what’s outside it?”

“Outside.”

“Tell me more about what’s outside.”

“Got to hand it to you,” the man police says, “you don’t give up.”

Am I the you?

“Go on, Jack,” says Officer Oh, “tell me about what’s just outside this room.”

“Outside,” I shout. I have to explain fast for Ma, wait Ma wait for me. “It’s got stuff for real like ice cream and trees and stores and airplanes and farms and the hammock.”

Officer Oh is nodding.

I have to try harder, I don’t know what. “But it’s locked and we don’t know the code.”

“You wanted to unlock the door and get outside?”

“Like Alice.”

“Is Alice another friend of yours?”

I nod. “She’s in the book.”

“Alice in Wonderland. For crying out loud,” says the man police.

I know that bit. But how did he read our book, he wasn’t ever in Room. I say to him, “Do you know the bit where her crying makes a pond?” “What’s that?” He looks at me backwards in the little mirror.

“Her crying makes a pond, remember?”

“Your ma was crying?” asks Officer Oh.

Outsiders don’t understand anything, I wonder do they watch too much TV. “No, Alice. She’s always wanting to get into the garden, like us.” “You wanted to get into the garden too?”

“It’s a backyard, but we don’t know the secret code.”

“This room’s right by the backyard?” she asks.

I shake my head.

Officer Oh rubs her face. “Work with me here, Jack. Is this room near a backyard?”

“Not near.”

“OK.”

Ma, Ma, Ma. “It’s all around.”

“This room’s in the backyard?”

“Yeah.”

I made Officer Oh happy but I don’t know how. “Here we go, here we go,” she’s looking at her screen and pressing buttons, “freestanding rear structures on Carlingford and Washington . . .”

“Skylight,” says the man police.

“Right, with a skylight . . .”

“Is that TV?” I ask.

“Hmm? No, it’s a photo of all these streets. The camera’s way up in space.”

“Outer Space?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.”

Officer Oh’s voice gets all excited. “Three four nine Washington, shed in the rear, lit skylight . . . Got to be.” “That’s three four nine Washington,” the man police is saying at his phone. “Go ahead.” He looks back in the mirror. “Owner’s name doesn’t match, but Caucasian male, DOB twelve-ten-sixty-one . . .”

“Vehicle?”

“Go ahead,” he says again. He waits. “Two thousand one Silverado, brown, K nine three P seven four two.” “Bingo,” says Officer Oh.

“We’re en route,” he’s saying, “request backup to three four nine Washington.”

The car’s turning right around the other way. Then we’re moving faster, it swirls me.

We’re stopped. Officer Oh’s looking out the window at a house. “No lights on,” she says.

“He’s in Room,” I say, “he’s making her be dead,” but the crying is melting my words so I can’t hear them.

Behind us there’s another car just like this one. More police persons getting out. “Sit tight, Jack.” Officer Oh’s opening the door. “We’re going to go find your ma.”

I jump, but her hand is making me stay in the car. “Me too,” I’m trying to say but all that comes out is tears.

She’s got a big flashlight she switches on. “This officer will stay right here with you—”

A face I never saw before pushes in.

“No!”

“Give him some space,” Officer Oh tells the new police.

“The blowtorch,” I remember, but it’s too late, she’s gone already.

There’s a creak and the back of the car pops up, the trunk, that’s what it’s called.

I put my hands over my head so nothing can get in, not faces not lights not noises not smells. Ma Ma don’t be dead don’t be dead don’t be dead . . .

I count to one hundred like Officer Oh said but I’m not any calmer. I do to five hundred, the numbers aren’t working. My back is jumping and shaking, it must be from being cold, where’s the blanket fallen?

A terrible sound. The police in the front seat is blowing his nose. He does a tiny smile and pokes the tissue in his nose, I look away.

I stare out the window at the house with no lights. A bit of it is open now that wasn’t before I don’t think, the garage, a huge dark square. I’m looking for hundreds of hours, my eyes get prickly. Someone comes out of the dark but it’s another police I never saw before. Then a person that’s Officer Oh and beside her — I’m thumping banging on the car door but I don’t know how, I have to smash the glass but I can’t, Ma Ma Ma Ma Ma Ma Ma Ma — Ma makes the door be open and I fall halfway out. She’s got me, she’s scooped me all up. It’s her for real, she’s one hundred percent alive.

“We did it,” she says, when we’re both in the back of the car together. “Well, you did it, really.” I’m shaking my head. “I kept messing up the plan.”

“You saved me,” says Ma, she kisses my eye and holds me tight.

“Was he there?”

“No, I was all by myself just waiting, it was the longest hour of my life. The next thing I knew was, the door exploded open, I thought I was having a heart attack.” “The blowtorch!”

“No, they used a shotgun.”

“I want to see the explosion.”

“It was only for a second. You can see another some time, I promise.” Ma’s grinning. “We can do anything now.” “Why?”

“Because we’re free.”

I’m dizzy, my eyes shut without me. I’m so sleepy I think my head’s going to fall off.

Ma’s talking in my ear, she says we need to go talk to some more police. I snuggle against her, I say, “Want to go to Bed.” “They’ll find us somewhere to sleep in a little while.” “No. Bed.”

“You mean in Room?” Ma’s pulled back, she’s staring in my eyes.

“Yeah. I’ve seen the world and I’m tired now.”

“Oh, Jack,” she says, “we’re never going back.”

The car starts moving and I’m crying so much I can’t stop.