Emma Donoghue - Room - A Novel

It’s a girl nearly the same big as me, she’s got all braids like Deana but sparkly beads on the ends and an elephant that’s furry and cereals in a tub with a lid that’s shape of a frog. “Hi Jack,” she says very squeaky.

There’s a booster for me beside Bronwyn. Paul shows me to click the buckle. The third time I do it all myself, Deana claps and Bronwyn too. Then Paul slides the van shut with a loud clunk. I jump, I want Ma, I think I might be going to cry, but I don’t.

Bronwyn keeps going “Hi Jack, Hi Jack.” She doesn’t talk right yet, she says “Dada sing,” and “Pretty doggy,” and “Momma more pretzl pees,” pees is what she says for please. Dada means Paul and Momma means Deana but they’re the names only Bronwyn gets to say, like nobody calls Ma Ma but me.

I’m being scave but a bit more brave than scared because this isn’t as bad as pretending I’m dead in Rug. Anytime a car comes at us I say in my head that it has to stay on its own side or Officer Oh will put it in jail with the brown truck. Pictures in the window are like in TV but blurrier, I see cars that are parked, a cement mixer, a motorbike and a car trailer with one two three four five cars on it, that’s my best number. In a front yard a kid pushing a wheelbarrow with a littler kid in it, that’s funny. There’s a dog crossing a road with a human on a rope, I think it’s actually tied, not like the daycare that were just holding on. Traffic lights changing to green and a woman with crutches hopping and a huge bird on a trash, Deana says that’s just a gull, they eat anything and everything.

“They’re omnivores,” I tell her.

“My, you know some big words.”

We turn where there’s trees. I say, “Is this the Clinic again?”

“No, no, we just have to make a pit stop at the mall to pick up a present for a birthday party Bronwyn’s going to this afternoon.” The mall means stores like Old Nick buys our groceries, but not anymore.

It’s just Paul going in the mall, but he says he doesn’t know what to choose, so Deana’s going in instead, but then Bronwyn starts chanting, “Me with Momma, me with Momma.” So it’s going to be Deana pulling Bronwyn in the red wagon and Paul and me will wait in the van.

I’m staring at the red wagon. “Can I try?”

“Later, at the museum,” Deana tells me.

“Listen, I’m desperate for the bathroom anyway,” says Paul, “it might be faster if we all run in.”

“I don’t know . . .”

“It shouldn’t be too hectic on a weekday.”

Deana looks at me, not smiling. “Jack, would you like to come in the mall in the wagon, just for a couple of minutes?” “Oh yeah.”

I ride at the back making sure Bronwyn doesn’t fall out because I’m the big cousin, “like John the Baptist,” I tell Bronwyn but she’s not listening. When we get up to the doors they make a pop sound and crack open by their own, I nearly fall out of the wagon but Paul says it’s all just tiny computers sending each other messages, don’t worry about it.

It’s all extra bright and ginormous, I didn’t know inside could be as big as Outside, there’s trees even. I hear music but I can’t see the players with the instruments. The most amazing thing, a bag of Dora, I get down to touch her face, she’s smiling and dancing at me. “Dora,” I whisper to her.

“Oh, yeah,” says Paul, “Bronwyn used to be all about her too but now it’s Hannah Montana.”

“Hannah Montana,” Bronwyn sings, “Hannah Montana.”

The Dora bag has straps, it’s like Backpack but with Dora on it instead of Backpack’s face. It has a handle too, when I try it pulls up, I think I broke it, but then it rolls, it’s a wheelie bag and a backpack at the same time, that’s magic.

“You like it?” It’s Deana talking to me. “Would you like to keep your things in it?”

“Maybe one that’s not pink,” says Paul to her. “What about this one, Jack, pretty cool or what?” He’s holding up a bag of Spider-Man.

I give Dora a big hug. I think she whispers, Hola, Jack.

Deana tries to take the Dora bag but I won’t let her. “It’s OK, I just have to pay the lady, you’ll get it back in two seconds . . .” It’s not two seconds, it’s thirty-seven.

“There’s the bathroom,” says Paul and he runs off.

The lady’s wrapping the bag in paper so I can’t see Dora anymore, she puts it into a big cardboard, then Deana gives it to me, swinging it on its strings. I take Dora out and put my arms in her straps and I’m wearing it, I’m actually wearing Dora.

“What do you say?” asks Deana.

I don’t know what I say.

“Bronwyn pretty bag,” says Bronwyn, she’s waving a spangled one with hearts hanging on strings.

“Yes, hon, but you’ve got lots of pretty bags at home.” She takes the shiny bag, Bronwyn screams and one of the hearts falls on the ground.

“Sometime, could we get more than twenty feet in before the first meltdown?” asks Paul, he’s back again.

“If you were here you could have distracted her,” Deana tells him.

“Bronwyn pretty baaaaaaagggggg!”

Deana lifts her back into the wagon. “Let’s go.”

I pick up the heart and put it in my pocket with the other treasures, I walk along beside the wagon.

Then I change my mind, I put all my treasures in my Dora bag in the front zip bit instead. My shoes are sore 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 that Jack,” says Paul, “she might take your picture with her cell phone or something, and your mom would kill us.” My chest starts banging. “Why Ma would—?”

“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.