The Bubble Wrap Boy by Phil Earle Read Free Book Online

a broken bottle. I knew instantly I’d put the cash toward new parts for the board.
    With only one bag of food, though, the rest of the journey was wobbly at best.
    I had to scoop the contents of the carton back in after one particularly eggy fall, but I still managed to roll along, throwing my arms out to the side if I felt like I was going to come off.
    I grinned stupidly at the guy at my next stop as he eyed his bag suspiciously. It looked like a bomb had gone off in it.
    I didn’t care about the lack of a tip, because I’d done it.
    I was Charlie Han. Skateboarder in training. And I couldn’t wait to set foot on that ramp.

S ecrets are for other people, not me.
    It’s not how I’d choose it, but there it is.
    I’d like to be able to take one and bury it deep inside me, reveling in how smug it made me feel. Other people manage it; why not me?
    But instead, secrets burn a hole inside my brain, until I can feel their heat seeping toward my skin, till my face is beaming like a beacon. Anyone within a two-mile radius can see what’s going on within seconds.
    Especially Mom.
    She leaned over the breakfast table, her hand shooting to my forehead, where it rested.
    “I’m not sure you should be going to school today, young man.” She looked worried. As usual.
    I continued to chew on my Cheerios, playing down her concern.
    “You’re hot.” She sighed. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? Any rashes or other symptoms?”
    “I’m fine, Mom. Really.”
    “But you’re sweating.”
    “It’s nothing. I’ve been working out in my room, that’s all. Push-ups and stuff.” I flexed my biceps but felt unimpressed. There was more meat on a pencil.
    “Well, you look sick to me. Maybe you should stay home. No point taking risks.”
    I leapt from the chair, banging my head on the lampshade above.
    “There’s no need!” I yelled, more urgently than I should have. “Honestly. Stop fussing. There’s nothing wrong with me.”
    Staying home wasn’t an option. Today was the day I was mustering up the courage to go down to the skate park for the first time. The day when the kids at school would start to see me differently, or for the first time see me at all.
    The last two months had all led to this point. The hours of practice, the endless books and articles I’d devoured. I was ready. It had to be today or I’d always find an excuse. And I couldn’t live with that.
    “Please, Mom.” I lowered my voice, seeing the hurt on her face. “There’s no need to worry. I feel fine. Better than fine. Magic, in fact. But I’ll put another layer on if it makes you feel better.”
    “You’re a good boy, and I’m sorry to fuss.” She looked all misty. “First sign of a cold, though, and I want you home, got me?”
    “Got you.” And to hide my guilt I gave her a hug, trying not to grimace when she squeezed my bruises a bit too hard.
    “Okay, Mom, you can let go now.”
    She didn’t. I practically had to slither to the floor to escape. I’m sure as I reached the door I heard a loud sniffle from her direction. I hoped it was due to a cold, not anything I’d said.
    Five minutes later, though, I was doing an awesome impression of Mom at her eccentric best.
    There I was, butt in the air, digging on all fours under the bush at the end of the road, branches and leaves flying everywhere, until I’d unearthed my board.
    I’d been hiding it there for the past few weeks, since Mom had almost found it “tidying” my room.
    She did that from time to time, although we both knew she wasn’t really interested in making it look neater.
    What she was really doing was looking for anything dangerous, like a sharp-cornered textbook or a suspicious zipper on my jeans that could injure me grievously.
    She always left empty-handed, of course, without the death-inducing ninja throwing stars or grade-three plutonium that I’d stashed on top of my dresser for a rainy day.
    Hiding the board outside was a risk, I knew, and my heart