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.
The
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.
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.
There’s another beep but a different. A rattling like all metals. Up again, then crash down, on my face, ow ow ow.
No, it’s the truck, it must be. It’s not a bit like a raspberry, it’s a million times more.
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
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
Moving again,
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.
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
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
A metal sound. Old Nick’s face. He’s out of the truck with the maddest face I ever saw and—
The ground breaks my feet smash my knee hits me in the face but I’m running running running, where’s
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
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