so I take them off.
“Jack!” That’s Paul calling at me.
“Don’t keep bawling his name out, remember?” says Deana.
“Oh, right.”
I see a gigantic apple made of wood. “I like that.”
“Crazy, isn’t it?” says Paul. “What about this drum for Shirelle?” he says to Deana.
She rolls her eyes. “Concussion hazard. Don’t even try.”
“Can I have the apple, thank you?” I ask.
“I don’t think it would fit into your bag,” says Paul, grinning.
Next I find a silver-and-blue thing like a rocket. “I want this, thank you.”
“That’s a coffeepot,” says Deana, putting it back on the shelf. “We bought you a bag already, that’s it for today, OK? We’re just looking for a present for Bronwyn’s friend, then we can get out of here.”
“Excuse me, I wonder are these your older daughter’s?” It’s an old woman holding up my shoes.
Deana stares at her.
“Jack, buddy, what’s going on?” says Paul, pointing at my socks.
“Thank you so much,” says Deana, taking the shoes from the woman and kneeling down. She pushes my feet to step into the right then the left. “You keep saying his name,” she says to Paul through her teeth.
I wonder what’s wrong with my name.
“Sorry, sorry,” says Paul.
“Why she said older daughter?” I ask.
“Ah, it’s your long hair and your Dora bag,” says Deana.
The old woman’s disappeared. “Was she a bad guy?”
“No, no.”
“But if she figured out that you were
“I mean, sorry—”
“She’d be really mad, that’s all he means,” says Deana.
I’m thinking of Ma lying in the dark Gone. “I don’t like her being mad.”
“No, of course not.”
“Can you back me to the Clinic now, please?”
“Very soon.”
“Now.”
“Don’t you want to see the museum? We’ll get going in just a minute. Webkinz,” Deana tells Paul, “that should be safe enough. I think there’s a toy shop past the food court. .”
I wheel my bag all the time, my shoes are Velcroed too tight. Bronwyn’s hungry so we have popcorn that’s the crunchiest thing I ever ate, it sticks in my throat and makes me cough. Paul gets him and Deana lattes from the coffee shop. When bits of popcorn fall down from my bag Deana says to leave them there because we’ve got plenty and we don’t know what’s been on that floor. I made a mess, Ma will be mad. Deana gives me a wet wipe to unsticky my fingers, I put it in my Dora bag. It’s too bright here and I think we’re lost, I wish I was in Room Number Seven.
I need to pee, Paul brings me in a bathroom that has funny floppy sinks on the wall. He waves at them. “Go ahead.”
“Where’s the toilet?”
“These are special ones just for us guys.”
I shake my head and go out again.
Deana says I can come with her and Bronwyn, she lets me choose the cubicle. “Great job, Jack, no splashing at all.”
Why would I splashing?
When she takes Bronwyn’s underwear down it’s not like Penis, or Ma’s vagina, it’s a fat little piece of body folded in the middle with no fur. I put my finger on it and press, it’s squishy.
Deana bangs my hand away.
I can’t stop screaming.
“Calm down, Jack. Did I — is your hand hurt?”
There’s all blood coming out of my wrist.
“I’m sorry,” says Deana, “I’m so sorry, it must have been my ring.” She stares at her ring with the gold bits. “But listen, we don’t touch each other’s private parts, that is not OK. OK?”
I don’t know private parts.
“All done, Bronwyn? Let Momma wipe.”
She’s rubbing the same bit of Bronwyn I did but she doesn’t hit herself after.
When I wash my hands it hurts the blood more. Deana keeps digging in her bag for a Band-Aid. She folds up some brown paper towel and tells me to press in on the cut.
“Okelydokely?” asks Paul outside.
“Don’t ask,” says Deana. “Can we get out of here?”
“What about the present for Shirelle?”
“We can wrap up something of Bronwyn’s that looks new.”
“Not something mine,” Bronwyn shouts.
They’re arguing. I want to be in bed with Ma in the dark and her all soft and no invisible music and red-faced wide persons going by and girls laughing with their arms knotted together and bits of them showing through their clothes. I press the cut to stop my blood falling out, I close my eyes walking along, I bang into a plant pot, actually it’s not really a plant like Plant was till she died, it’s plastic of one.
Then I see anybody smiling at me that’s Dylan! I run and give him a huge hug.
“A book,” says Deana, “perfect, give me two seconds.”
“It’s Dylan the Digger, he’s my friend from Room,” I tell Paul. “ ‘Heeeeeeeeere’s Dylan, the sturdy digger! The loads he shovels get bigger and bigger. Watch his long arm delve into the earth —’ ”
“That’s great, buddy. Now can you find where it goes back?”
I’m stroking Dylan’s front, it’s gone all smooth and shiny, how did he get here to the mall?
“Careful you don’t get blood on it.” Paul’s putting a tissue on my hand, my brown paper must have dropped off. “Why don’t you choose a different book that you’ve never read before?”
“Momma, Momma,” Bronwyn’s trying to get a jewelry out of the front of a book.
“Go pay,” says Deana, putting a book in Paul’s hand, she runs over to Bronwyn.
I open my Dora bag, I put Dylan in and zip him up safe.
When Deana and Bronwyn come back we walk near the fountain to hear the splashing but not get splashed. Bronwyn’s saying, “Money, money,” so Deana gives her a coin and Bronwyn throws it in the water.
“Want one?” That’s Deana saying to me.
It must be a special trash for money that’s too dirty. I take the coin and throw it in and get out the wet wipe to clean my fingers.
“Did you make a wish?”
I never made a wish with trash before. “For what?”
“Whatever you’d like best in the world,” says Deana.
What I’d like best is to be in Room but I don’t think that’s in the world.
There’s a man talking to Paul, he’s pointing at my Dora.
Paul comes and unzips it and takes out Dylan. “Ja — Buddy!”
“I am so sorry,” says Deana.
“He’s got a copy at home, you see,” says Paul, “he thought this was his one.” He holds out Dylan to the man.
I run and grab him back, I say, “ ‘Heeeeeeeeere’s Dylan, the sturdy digger! The loads he shovels get bigger and bigger.’ ” “He doesn’t understand,” says Paul.
“ ‘Watch his long arm delve into the earth—’ ”