Room_ A Novel - Emma Donoghue [51]
What little girl?
Old Nick clears his throat, he’s still carrying me to the truck but walking backwards. “Fine.”
“Raja’s usually really gentle, but she came at him out of nowhere . . .”
“Just a tantrum,” says Old Nick.
“Hey. Wait up, I think her hand’s bleeding.”
I look at my eaten finger, the blood’s making drops.
Then he has picked the baby person up now, he’s holding it on his arm and the poo bag in the other hand and he’s looking really confused.
Old Nick stands me down, he’s got his fingers on my shoulders so they’re burning. “It’s under control.”
“And her knee too, that looks bad. Raja didn’t do that. Has she had a fall?” asks the man.
“I’m not a her,” I say but only inside my throat.
“Why don’t you mind your own business and I’ll mind mine?” Old Nick’s nearly growling.
Ma, Ma, I need you for talking. She’s not in my head anymore, she’s not anywhere. She wrote the note, I was forgetting, I put my not eaten hand in my underwear and I can’t find the note but then I do, it’s all peed. I can’t talk but I wave it at the somebody man.
Old Nick rips it out of my hand and makes it disappear.
“OK, I don’t—I don’t like this,” says the man. He’s got a little phone in his hand, where did it come from? He’s saying, “Yes, police, please.”
It’s happening just like Ma said, we’re at eight that’s Police already and I haven’t even showed the Note or said about Room, I’m doing it backwards. I’m meant to talk to the somebody just like they’re human. I start to say, “I’ve been kidnapped,” but it only comes out whispery because Old Nick’s picked me up again, he’s heading for the truck, he’s running, I’m all shaking to pieces, I can’t find to hit, he’s going to—
“I’ve got your plates, mister!”
That’s the man person screaming, is he shouting at me? What plates?
“K nine three—” He’s shouting numbers, why is he shouting numbers?
Suddenly arghhhhhh the street bangs me in the tummy hands face, Old Nick’s running away but without me. He dropped me. He’s farther off every second. Those must be magic numbers to make him drop me.
I try to get up but I can’t remember how.
A noise like a monster, the truck’s vrummmming and coming at me rrrrrrrrrrr, it’s going to crush me down to smithereens on the pavement, I don’t know how where what—the baby crying, I never heard a real baby cry before—
The truck’s gone. It just drove past, around the corner without stopping. I hear it for a bit, then I don’t hear it anymore.
The higher bit, the sidewalk, Ma said to get on the sidewalk. I have to crawl but with my bad knee not putting down. The sidewalk’s all in big squares, scrapy.
A terrible smell. The dog’s nose is right beside me, it’s come back to chew me up, I scream.
“Raja.” The man pulls the dog away. The man’s squatting down, he’s got the baby on one of his knees, it’s wriggling. He doesn’t have the poo bag anymore. Looks like a TV person but nearer and wider and with smells, a bit like Dish Soap and mint and curry all together. His hand that’s not holding the dog tries to get on me but I roll away just in time. “It’s OK, sweetie. It’s OK.”
Who’s sweetie? His eyes are looking at my eyes, it’s me that’s the sweetie. I can’t look, it’s too weird having him seeing me and talking at me.
“What’s your name?”
TV people never ask things except Dora and she knows my name already.
“Can you tell me what you’re called?”
Ma said to talk to the somebody, that’s my job. I try and nothing comes out. I lick my mouth. “Jack.”
“What’s that?” He bends nearer, I curl up with my head in my arms. “It’s OK, no one’s going to hurt you. Tell me your name a little louder?”
It’s easier to say if I don’t look at him. “Jack.”
“Jackie?”
“Jack.”
“Oh. Right, sorry. Your dad’s gone now, Jack.”
What’s he saying about?
The baby starts pulling at his, the thing over his shirt, it’s a jacket. “I’m Ajeet, by the way,” the man person says, “and this is my daughter—hang on, Naisha. Jack needs a Band-Aid for that ouchy on his knee, let’s see if . . .” He’s feeling in all the bits of his bag. “Raja’s really sorry he bit you.”
The dog