by Jaclyn Dawn
Mike’s lead was to the source of the article in the Inquirer, not the publisher of the Inquirer. Not me. Yet I didn’t feel as relieved as I would have thought. Why hadn’t Danika told me about the ring?
“You didn’t drink all my moonshine, did you?” Finley interrupted.
“No. Here,” I said, handing him his moonshine and hopping off the tailgate. “Bathroom break.”
CHAPTER 13
“JUST PEE ALREADY,” DANIKA WAS SAYING AS I STUMBLED OVER some more rocks and roots. “The fireworks are going to start soon, and I want to get back to RC and the kids.” Her face glowed from the light of her phone as she either texted someone she would rather talk to or checked her Facebook page.
I had probably gone further than necessary into the bushes, but the party needed only one moon tonight. I tried to hide myself behind a few poplar trees to be sure, but their trunks were no thicker than my legs.
“How much have you had to drink?” Danika asked in a judging tone.
“A few. Hasn’t Alek been feeding them to you, too?”
“No. I saw you talking to Mike. How’d that go?”
“He brought up that article about us in the Inquirer.” I zipped up my jeans and stepped out from behind the trees. Danika pocketed her phone. “He said that you and RC were the only ones who knew about the engagement ring.”
“Seriously? You’re worried about who told your little story to the Inquirer? It was more embarrassing for Mike than you. And you’re blaming me? Believe me, if it was me, there would have been a lot more revealed,” Danika said.
“Like what?”
“I can’t believe Mike’s even talking to you. I would have let you run away and sure as hell wouldn’t have spent a year pining after you. I would have gone to the police.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Cleaning out his bank account, for one.”
“I left with nothing but my last paycheque from Grandma’s Kitchen. I took his suitcases to hold my clothes. That’s it,” I said. Okay, so I had taken the apology gifts he had given me over the years to pawn. I’m sorry I forgot your birthday, here’s an iPod. I’m sorry I got super drunk at buddy’s stag and was grinding with the stripper, here’s another necklace. They were mine, though, weren’t they? I was too shocked by Danika’s anger to be angry. I just wanted my childhood friend to believe me.
“Every couple has their ups and downs, but you didn’t deserve Mike,” Danika said. “You still don’t. Now he’s doing your family favours. He stuck around, Miah, not you.”
Danika made as dramatic an exit as stomping through twenty feet of brush would allow. I couldn’t call after her over the lump in my throat.
No one will ever love you like I do, Mike used to tell me.
Skirting the party, I walked to Alek’s car. I planned on waiting there for him to take me home, except when I got to the car, he was already waiting for me. I nearly stepped on him. Alek was sitting on a blanket spread out in the grass, leaning against his back tire.
“Almost showtime,” he said, referring to the fireworks. “No mouthpieces over here to torture us, if you want to join me.”
He patted the blanket beside him. Misjudging the distance between my backside and the ground in the dark, I sat down with a thump. Alek reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. I expected him to pull out a joint, but it was a pack of gum.
“Some spearmint gum to intensify your moonshine experience?”
“I’m good. Thanks.” I lay down, too, more to stop my head from spinning than to get a better view of the sky. I wanted to go home, wrap myself in my quilt, and cry … or sleep … or cry myself to sleep. “No one around here cares about anything but a breakup that happened two years ago. All they see is Little Miah Williams or Mike’s Girl. Did you know I go to UBC?”
“No. What are you taking?”
“I took general studies for two years and haven’t settled on a major yet. Finley thinks I should be a teacher.”
“Questionable choice for a guidance counsellor.”
“Hey, you and Finley are the only ones who’ve asked since I’ve been back in Kingsley. What do you do, then, if you are so put together?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure I’m a graphic designer. At least ‘Art and Design’ is what’s printed on the degree the U of A gave me,” he said. “Is that why you left? Secret, uncontrollable urges to get an education degree?”
“Do you have another drink for me if I answer?”
“No, but I’ll give you a ride home. Looks like I’m your only friend tonight. Unless you trust Finley behind the wheel,” Alek said. He must have seen Danika storm out of the bushes.
“If I didn’t know better, I would accuse you of flirting with me,” I said.
“I am. Not much else to do in the thriving metropolis of Kingsley, Alberta.”
“Gee, thanks.”
He laughed. Who knew the ever-serious Alek Rooker laughed? I liked the sound.
“Even our cities are considered small in other countries. You would have to multiply Edmonton or Vancouver by twelve to get New York or London,” he said.
“Helping with the census this year?”
“Yeah.” Alek craned his neck to look around the car and pretended to do a head count. “Kingsley’s population recently experienced a drastic increase of two. Dare I say it has been one hell of an improvement?”
“Cheers to that. Oh, I forgot, I don’t have a drink.”
The fireworks started. I never understood what the big deal was about fireworks. I never smoked a joint in my life, but turned my head to comment that the show would probably be better high. Alek turned, too. With his free hand, he gently cupped my face. Then he kissed me. His lips were soft and warm. When he started to move away, I pulled him closer by the front of his coat. For a space of time Danika, the party, Kingsley, the Inquirer, Mike … they all disappeared.
The cracking and popping of the fireworks were replaced by clapping, but we didn’t notice. What got our attention was a tailgate slamming with a loud bang! We shifted apart, suddenly aware that time had passed but unsure how much time, and both looked toward the noise. People made room as Mike and Austin climbed into the truck and slammed the doors. The engine fired up, and the truck pulled away from the fire with more gas than necessary. Onlookers shielded themselves from spit-up dirt clumps, and a couple of people shouted complaints.
Suddenly, Danika appeared in front of us. She reached down and grabbed my arm, pulling me to my feet. Her long manicured fingernails dug painfully into my skin, and I stumbled forward.
“We’re leaving,” she ordered.
CHAPTER 14
THE SUNLIGHT HURT. I CLOSED MY EYES AGAIN, BUT THE EARTH SPED up to spite me and my stomach gurgled. My mouth was dry and tasted of rotten apples. Memories of the previous night began to unfold in reverse.
I remembered my mom’s potentillas and whimpered out loud. The little yellow flower-speckled bushes flanking the porch had been watered with orange-flavoured rum and decorated with regurgitated baked spaghetti.
I remembered feeling like a student in the principal’s office, sitting in the back of Alek’s car with my hands folded in my lap. The awkward silence. Thanking Alek for the ride, and Danika slamming the door closed before he could respond, if he was even going to.
I remembered the kissing, or at least parts of the kissing. I whimpered again and pulled the quilt over my face. I remembered the fight with Danika and the conversation with Mike. I remembered thinking liquid courage had been exactly what I had needed.
I knew I should talk to Danika, but decided to wait until the next day. Puking on Danika’s fancy shoes wasn’t going to help the situation. I slowly made my way to the kitchen where Dad was sitting in his wheelchair at the table, sipping black coffee.
“How was the party?”
“Fine.” I didn’t meet his eye but heard his amused snort. Since they were self-induced, hangovers didn’t elicit sympathy from him. I opened the cupboard for a glass,
flinching at the scraping glass-on-glass noise as I unstacked one.
“There’s Advil next to the sink. Your mom took pity on you and went to check cows,” Dad said, adding, “after she cleaned the porch.”
I went back to bed.
I made sure to be up earlier than usual the following morning. Oatmeal and coffee were ready by the time Mom pushed Dad’s wheelchair into the kitchen. No rips or flannel with checked patterns on either of them. It was Friday, the day of the second surgery.
As with Dad’s last appointment, I stayed home to run errands. At least this time I was included in making the plan. I would have gone with Mom for moral support, but during evening chores we had discovered a sick calf that would need to be bottle-fed morning, noon, and night.
After the first feeding, I ventured into town.
I picked up antibiotics for the cows from the vet and a stack of mail at the post office. Next was Kingsley Grocery, which was busier than usual since it was the Inquirer release day.
I bought ingredients for banana bread, but also for oatmeal raisin cookies. They had once been my specialty and Dad’s favourite. Mike’s, too. It didn’t take me long to notice the Inquirer headline about me this time. I noticed as soon as I reached the counter.
Miah the Man-Eater!
On the front page was a picture of Alek and me with tangled limbs on the blanket at the creek. The picture was grainy and not intentionally of us, which was obvious by the large arm of a cropped-out person on the right-hand side. The picture was zoomed in, and without the headline it would be impossible to identify me. Overlaying the picture were two smaller ones: one of Mike looking ready to kill and one of Danika, taken on a different date. She was wearing a different-coloured shirt, the picture was from a different camera, and there was daylight that couldn’t be cropped out of the background. This was not Nathan’s best work. He would have been in a hurry to meet the deadline.
I dropped a toonie into the contributions box and paid for my groceries, including the bacon bits that were half price with the coupon from the Inquirer. Mr. Wong didn’t mention the coincidence that I had already had bacon bits in my basket and they just happened to be on sale. A sale was a sale. Just as Nathan had said, Mr. Wong had no interest in the Inquirer or town gossip. I ignored the sideways glances of the dozen other people in the store and left with my cheeks burning.
I didn’t bother to call Nathan. This story was too humiliating, and I didn’t need a recap of the rules. He was probably waiting by the phone thinking who knows what about me, and I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. Instead, I crossed the street to the library to face Danika. While I couldn’t be certain Danika wasn’t behind blabbing certain bits of information to the Inquirer, I was certain she wasn’t behind the latest article. She wouldn’t risk the unflattering pictures and the story’s reflection on her. It was only eleven o’clock, but the sign on the library door read Closed. A yellow Post-it note in girly handwriting added, Family emergency. Back soon.
Was the Inquirer the family emergency? Or did the Inquirer create a family emergency? I pictured Officer Petersen, a.k.a. Bobby, responding to a domestic disturbance call and neighbours looking on as Danika beat Alek with a rolled-up copy of the Inquirer.
CHAPTER 15
DANIKA HAD LIVED IN THE SAME HOUSE SINCE SHE WAS SIX years old. As though inspired by fairy tales with happily-ever-afters, Danika’s grandpa had built with his own hands a haven with cobblestone walks and more gardens than lawn for his grieving wife and two recently orphaned grandchildren. Danika and I used to talk about everything—everything except her parents’ car crash. Fifteen years later, Grandpa Leo had suffered a stroke and moved into Sunshine Manor a couple blocks down the road, and RC had proposed and moved in with Danika.
When I pulled up, Danika’s white minivan was running in the driveway. I was halfway up the walk when she stepped out the front door. She wasn’t happy to see me.
“Your boy toy is on the couch. Handle at your own risk. Who knows what diseases he carries.” She hurried past me with her nose and chin pointing skyward.
“I’m guessing you’ve seen the paper, then?”
“What?” Danika spun around and snatched the Inquirer from my hands. She let out a high-pitched screech as soon as she saw the cover. “Ew! This is all I need! Unlike you two, I have to live in this town, you know! I don’t have time for this right now, Miah.” She threw the paper on the ground.
“What’s with you? I—”
“Baba is pestering the kitchen staff at the manor again. She won’t get in your boy toy’s ridiculous car, so I had to take my lunch break early to sort out the whole mess.” Danika hoisted herself into the minivan, slammed the door, and put it in reverse. Then, on second thought, she rolled down her window. “Don’t think too highly of yourself either. Alek just wanted to get back at Mike. It’s childish. I mean, Mike doesn’t even remember Alek. It was seventh grade. He needs to get over it.” Danika backed down the driveway and disappeared around the block.
I stood on the walk for a minute, unsure what to do. I had come to have a civilized conversation with her, to apologize, and instead got scolded. And I had just stood there and taken it! I decided she couldn’t get rid of me that easily. I picked the Inquirer off the ground and let myself into the house.
The flowered wallpaper, crocheted doilies, and yellowing newspapers I remembered from my childhood were gone. Now the décor was modern and stylish like Danika. Red and taupe-coloured walls, laminate flooring, black-framed family photos, and leather furniture. Mother Goose wouldn’t have approved of the makeover, and I doubted Baba did either.
Benton was stacking blocks in front of an educational cartoon about potty training while Abby slept in her carrier. Alek was stretched out on the couch with his hands behind his head. Danika’s lectures didn’t seem to affect him the way they did me. I dropped the Inquirer on his chest, wishing it were heavier to make the act more emphatic. Alek opened his eyes, and the corners of his mouth twitched. I gestured toward the paper, so he picked it up and calmly looked over the cover. Then he put it back down on his chest and refolded his hands behind his head.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” I asked.
“Doubt the inside is any better.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“It’s amateurish. There’s no grid. They aren’t using proper software. Five dollars say they don’t know the difference between raster and vector images. The kerning is off in three places on the cover alone.”
“Show-off.” I realized now wasn’t the time to take offence, but I was offended. I flopped down on the other couch. “Is Danika right? Did you use me to get back at Mike?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“What? No!” I didn’t think I did. Did I? “I asked you first.”
“You’re hot, you’re funny, and we were both bored,” Alek said. “Ticking Mike off was just a bonus.”
“Flattering,” I said sarcastically, though strangely it was. “Well, Mike’s definitely ticked. And despite the easygoing country boy routine, he isn’t someone I like to tick off.”
“Did he dunk your head in a toilet, too?”
“Something like that,” I said. “I didn’t know he bullied you.”
Alek turned his head to look at me, his eyebrows furrowed under the hair hanging in his eyes, like he was trying to figure something out about me.
“What difference does any of this make?” he asked. “We’re both out of here soon anyway.”
“Maybe I’d like to come back one day,” I said. “No matter what we joke about, Kingsley is home.”
“I guess we’re more different than I had thought. You’ll just go back to being Little Miah Williams. Better yet, Mike’s Girl. Small-town dreams can come true.”
“No, I won’t. Change can happen. You just have to make it happen.”
“Some things never change, no matter how hard we stomp our little feet. But for your sake, I hope for an exception.” He smi
led. “And good luck to anyone in your path.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“It’s just a hunch.”
CHAPTER 16
ALEK MAY HAVE BEEN ABLE TO RESIST READING THE ARTICLE featuring the two of us, but I couldn’t. I told him I was waiting for Danika no matter how long it took. He shrugged and closed his eyes, and I opened the Inquirer.
KINGSLEY LOVE TRIANGLE
Miah: Girl next door or man-eater?
Miah Williams and younger man Alek Rooker were caught getting hot and heavy by Miah’s jealous ex Mike Hayes!
While locals watched the mediocre fireworks display provided by Kingsley’s town council in celebration of Canada’s 148th birthday, Miah and Alek were making fireworks of their own on the ground mere feet from the party.
Most readers are probably wondering: who the heck is Alek Rooker? The younger brother of Miah’s former BFF, Danika Miller! Out of sight, out of mind, but not forgotten, Alek is remembered for his rebellious childhood.
‘His skipping class, sneaking out, and partying left his grandparents no choice but to send him to a boarding school,’ says an insider.
Another source calls Alek ‘the misunderstood artist type.’
Witnesses say Miah had been drinking heavily Saturday night, including several shots of moonshine provided by an unnamed source.
‘That could’ve been me,’ former classmate Finley Brodowski told the Inquirer. ‘But I would never stab my buddy Mike in the back like that.’
After spotting Miah in Alek’s arms, Mike made a dramatic exit and Danika, perhaps worried her little brother’s heart would suffer the same fate as Mike’s, was seen escorting the couple from the party.
Who will earn the affections in this love triangle heating up the summer: small-town bad boy Alek or hometown stud Mike? Or will two broken hearts be left in Miah’s dust?