Read Online The Bubble Wrap Boy by Phil Earle - Free Book Online Page B

the world.
    And, as it turned out, someone
was
filming it—not for posterity or glory, but to magnify my ultimate embarrassment.
    As I dropped into the bowl for the umpteenth time, I saw something below me.
    Someone that didn’t belong there.
    It wasn’t another skater: there was no regulation hoodie or baggy jeans on show.
    And there definitely wasn’t a board under their feet.
    There was just my mom.
    With her hands on her hips and a face like thunder.
    My heart stopped and the board thundered on, but not for long. The writing was on the wall, and it consisted of two simple words:
GAME OVER.

I didn’t dare open my eyes.
    Not because I was scared I’d broken something.
    No, the fear came from the last thing I saw before the board and I went our separate ways.
    I didn’t understand where she’d come from or how she’d known—all I knew was that it was definitely Mom towering over me. I could feel the anger radiating from her.
    I jumped to my feet quickly, a minuscule part of me hoping that if I played down the fall, she might not see skating as four-wheeled Russian roulette.
    One look at Krakatoa erupting from her face, though, told me I was out of luck.
    I was about to get a massive bawling out, even by her overpowering standards.
    “Charlie Han!” she roared, reducing the whole park to silence in only two words.
    “What on EARTH do you think you’re doing?”
    “Oh, you know, just hanging out…” I ran out of lies before the end of the sentence and changed tack, trying the dutiful-son card. “I didn’t hit you, did I? Before that silly little fall…”
    “Dude, you didn’t touch her,” interrupted Stan from over my shoulder. “You did this crazy Eskimo roll to avoid her. Ballsiest move I’ve ever seen. Especially without a helmet.”
    Mom shot him a look of death, before upping it to one of extermination as she turned back to me.
    “What are you doing here?” I asked her. “You were off to bed. You should be there now. You’re probably ill. Hallucinating and everything…” I was rambling and knew it.
    “Oh, I know what I’m seeing. Though, believe me, I wish I were dreaming. I couldn’t sleep. Thought a walk might clear my head. Shows just how wrong you can get things, doesn’t it?”
    I could see she was trying to keep a lid on her anger but failing. Veins were popping on her neck. She didn’t look tired anymore.
    “So? Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” she hissed.
    I felt a crowd start to gather as the others sniffed a family drama at worst, and the sight of blood at best. I half expected to hear a chant of “Fight! Fight! Fight!” swell and engulf us. It didn’t, though. They were clearly as terrified as I was.
    “Nothing’s going on. I’m just hanging out. Skateboarding, that’s all it is.”
    My best casual voice wasn’t cutting it, sounding strangled enough to summon every dog in the park.
    “That’s all?” she yelled, each word getting sharper. “That’s ALL? Are you insane? How long has this been going on, and why on earth didn’t you think to tell me?”
    I panicked, not sure what the right answer was. Did I lie and say this was the first time I’d tried it? Or claim ignorance and say I’d lost my memory in the fall?
    Which answer wouldn’t lead me to being humiliated in front of the people I was most desperate to impress?
    My brain formulated an elaborate, coincidence-laden lie, but at the last second my mouth betrayed me, spitting out the truth in one lame punctuation-free apology.
    “AcoupleofmonthsnowIwantedtotellyoubutIthoughtyoudstopmeandIlovedoingthisandImreallygoodatittoojustasktheotherstheylltellyouthesame.”
    It sounded ridiculous, like the apologetic whine of a puppy who’d went on the rug before ripping up his master’s sheepskin slippers.
    All credibility, all hope, gone. I watched it disappear, so much faster than it had taken to gather.
    Mom didn’t care about that, though. She didn’t want to hear what Dan or Stan thought and,