by Deb Loughead
Jake shakes his head, though he seems afraid. “What?”
“We should go over and visit Ms. Stitski. Tell her how sorry we are for skipping out on everything back in June. And maybe we can find out what she’s looking for, how much she already knows. See if she actually believes the rumours. Or has any other clues about what happened that night.”
Jake sighs. “I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.”
At dinner my thoughts are stuck in an endless loop, going over the plans we made about paying a visit to the Stitskis this week. It was my brilliant idea, but I’ve already begun to regret it. I’m still not sure that I’m ready to face Kit’s broken family. Or that I ever will be.
Since deciding to log off, it feels like a chore to make small talk at meal times, but we’ve been trying hard during the few meals we’ve shared since my other brilliant idea in the restaurant on Sunday. We chat about things that are going on in our country and in the world, and we share ideas and listen to each other’s thoughts and opinions. Now we actually have to try to think for a change, instead of relying on our smartphones to think for us.
Mom seems to be suffering the most without her device on hand all the time. After two days with the new rules, she isn’t adapting very well. It’s kind of pathetic and kind of funny to watch how her eyes stray toward her phone, sitting switched off with the others on the kitchen desk. A couple of times I’ve caught her making unconscious swiping motions on the table with her fingertip, as though it was her phone screen.
And I thought I was hooked.
“Don’t worry, Mom,” I said when I noticed her checking out her phone last night. “I’m sure you’re not missing anything momentous on Twitter.” Caught, she shot me a scathing look through narrowed eyes.
This time though, lost in my own muddled thoughts, I’m not paying attention to anything. And since nobody has a device beside their plate to focus on, everybody else notices me.
“You don’t have much to say today,” Dad says.
“Huh?” I look up from my plate of spaghetti, mid-twirl. Three sets of eyes are on me.
“Well, usually you’re the one who has the most to say, Clems.” He pats my hand across the table. “Yesterday you talked about your theatre arts class, and the skits based on Macbeth that you had to ad lib, and how funny it was. Then you shocked us with the big reveal that you have a soft spot for spiders and would never kill one since they eat the nastier bugs. But today you don’t even seem to be at the table with us.”
“Probably thinking about Jake,” Zach says though a mouthful of meatball. He winces when I boot him under the table.
Dad has a worried look on his face, which is strange to see. Then I realize it’s because I hardly ever get to see his face this way. Usually it’s focused on a screen instead of on me, even when he talks to me. So I’d better engage instead of ignore.
“Yeah, you’re right,” I tell him. “The truth is, Kit Stitski’s been on my mind lately.”
Surprised faces all around the table. Then a solemn look from Mom.
“Funny you should mention that, Clems. Kit’s name came up at my school today because of his brother, Kevin, who’s in grade five. We actually had a staff meeting about him.” She taps one finger on the table and shakes her head. “You know, I still feel so badly that nobody from our family was able to make it to Kit’s funeral. It was just sad luck that Dad and I had to go to his great-aunt’s funeral out of town on the same day.”
“And me too, remember?” Zach says, pulling a face. “It was so frigging boring!”
“Jeez, Zach,” Dad tells him, frowning. “She was my Godmother!”
“Yeah, sad luck,” I say with a sigh. “So what was the staff meeting about anyway?” I ask, curious now.
“That’s so sad too, Clem. Kevin’s been acting up this year, and that’s not like him. He was in my class last year, and an excellent student. Always respectful, homework and projects done on time, pretty good grades. But all that has changed, and we’re getting concerned now.”
“Clearly, missing his brother,” Dad says, nodding in an understanding way. “And who can blame him? So what are they doing about it?”
“Well, there’s talk of bringing in a social worker and getting him some counselling. We’d like to get together with Kevin and his mom, but she’s a tough one to get hold of. Extremely busy lawyer, I suppose, and when she actually answers her phone, she says she’ll call us back but never does. A lot of the time Kevin doesn’t show up at school. He used to be such a bright, happy kid, too. It’s a real shame. I wish I knew of a way to help him.”
I feel even sicker just hearing that about Kevin. “It’s still pretty fresh, Mom. If I’m still thinking about Kit, then a lot of other people must be, too, especially his brother. It’s like nobody wants to talk about him, and even for me there was never any real closure.”
“No closure, Clementine?” Mom looks at me funny. “But you went to the school after he died, and spoke with the counsellor, didn’t you, and took part in the special activities? And you went to the memorial at the quarry, right?”
Nope. Wrong. “Whatever, Mom. I don’t feel like talking about it anymore.”
I suck up a long strand of spaghetti, knowing that she’s still watching me. I’ve never admitted that I didn’t go, couldn’t go, to that evening vigil that the Circle of Friends and a bunch of other kids had pulled together on a whim at the quarry, the day they found him there. That I just went for a long bike ride alone instead and texted my friends that I was sick. At the time I felt so lame missing out that I had to make something up. I pretended I’d gone, telling my folks what everyone else told me. How everyone gathered at the quarry, and lit candles and said prayers. How all the kids wore watches to the vigil and a few of them read poems. Then someone had brought out a guitar, and everyone joined in singing one of Kit’s favourite songs, Great Big Sea’s “Ordinary Day.”
No doubt about it, and no use denying it: my life has become a big, fat lie since Kit died. I just sit there staring at my plate for a few minutes, afraid of looking up, knowing that all eyes in the room are on me. Then finally I can’t take it anymore.
I smile weakly and shrug, then put my half-empty plate on the counter and head for my room. Yet another half-eaten meal because of my messed-up life.
How weird that ever since my family’s disconnected, we seem more connected than ever.
8
On Wednesday morning, Ellie isn’t at my locker. I haven’t heard a word from her since theatre arts yesterday, when she pouted after Aubrey surprised us on stage. She hasn’t even texted, which is strange considering how much she usually pesters me.
Something else about Ellie has been bothering me since I opened my eyes this morning. Yesterday Jake and I decided that some of the other kids from the field party have to know more, but they aren’t talking either. Jake and I couldn’t have been the only ones who ran into Kit that night. There were kids everywhere. Over a hundred of them. What else did they see? As we walked home together after school, plotting our visit to the Stitskis this week, we also concluded that it’s time to start asking other kids questions, to try and learn more about what actually happened to Kit. After he crossed paths with the two of us.
Ever since “it” happened, Ellie has held it over me, threatening to expose me. But the fact is, she hasn’t breathed a word to me about what she saw that night. And now that I know Jake was hiding a secret, I’m very curious about Ellie too. Because what better way for her to hang on to her own secrets than to threaten to blab mine if I don’t agree to her selfish demands? It’s totally evil, and it’s also a perfect plan. And I have a sick feeling now that I’ve been totally sucked in.
She’s definitely the first person I’m going to question.
When Jake shows up at my locker, though, my Ellie fixation is history in a matter of seconds. I can hardly believe what just the sound of his vo
ice can do to me now — like make my insides bubble and boil like a lab experiment. What it would be like to actually kiss this guy?
“I slept like crap,” is the first thing he says. “Yesterday’s stuff kept waking me up.”
“Me, too. It’s like the whole thing is fresh again. I’m already dreading what we decided. How’ll we ever face his family?”
“Don’t worry. We’ll get through this together, Clems.” He rubs the back of his hand against my arm, takes a step closer to me as his blue eyes settle on mine and —
The first-period bell buzzes right over our heads.
“Catch you later,” he says, and strides off down the hall.
Ellie’s first text of the day comes at the end of first period. Her words are waiting to annoy me the instant I switch on my phone.
Clems! Meet me in the w/room right now! Plzzz!
Don’t want to be late for history, I text back.
THIS IS IMPORTANT!!!! HURRY!!!!
So are my marks.
I NEED u! Just for a minute.
And that’s all the time I’m giving you. Of course I don’t say that, but I don’t text back, either. Instead, I let her worry about me not rushing to her rescue, as I rush through the hallways to her rescue. Again. This time I have an ulterior motive, though. I have some questions to ask. And only a couple of minutes to ask them before the next bell.
A couple of giggling girls, drenched in body spray, shuffle out of the washroom door just as I reach it, and I step aside to let them pass. What can possibly be worth giggling about, or stinking for, this early in the day? As the creaky door swings shut behind me, the sound echoes off the walls. Nobody’s in there. One stall door is shut, probably because the toilet is clogged up with paper or worse. As usual.
“Dammit!” I say out loud. She’s not even here.
“Clems?” Her voice makes me jump.
“Where are you?” I spin around.
“Right here, standing on the toilet. I didn’t want those two girls to see me.”
“God, Ellie. Would you just get out here and tell me what you want?” My face burns, I’m that pissed off. “Why do you always have to be so dramatic? Why is everything always such …”
When she steps out of the stall, I gasp. Her bottom lip is split and puffy. Blood is trickling onto her chin. Her eyes are red, her cheeks soaked with tears.
“What the hell happened to you?” I practically shout.
“Shhh. I don’t want anyone to hear us.”
“But when did you even get in here?”
“I snuck through the halls during first period. Nobody saw me.” She sniffs hard and wipes her face with a wad of toilet paper. “You won’t even believe what happened to me on my way to school this morning, Clems.”
“Try me,” I tell her, even though she’s probably right. I likely won’t believe her. “You have about two minutes. Go!”
“Clementine!” She snuffles loudly. “Why are you being so mean!”
Me being mean! “Minute-and-a-half left …”
“Okay, so when I was walking to school this morning, this weird guy I never saw before came out of nowhere and tried to grab my backpack. So, I fought back, and he, like, punched me in the mouth and swore at me!”
“Really.”
“Then he took off without it. Because I hung on so hard. And I was so totally freaked out, that I just walked around for most of first period, crying my butt off. And then I came to school.”
“Really.”
The second-period bell buzzes above our heads. Ellie sniffs again. “And here I am.”
“Uh-huh. So, Ellie, when you’re ready to tell me the truth about what really happened to you this morning, just text me, okay?”
I turn around and walk straight out of the washroom without looking back. I have a feeling that for reasons I don’t completely understand, I’m starting to get the upper hand with this girl.
Deep down I think I know exactly what happened to Ellie. But I’m not quite ready to let myself go there yet.
The next text pops up just before lunchtime.
I think I’m ready Clems. Meet me in front of the school.
Maybe she’s ready, but I’m not so sure that I am. Mostly because I dread hearing the next story, just wondering if it’ll be fact or fiction. Curiosity wins though.
I’ll be there, I text back.
I’m under the big tree.
The big tree. A sugar maple so brilliant now that its leaves have morphed to orange and gold, that it almost hurts your eyes to look at it on a sunny day like this one. When I get there Ellie’s sitting behind the trunk, out of sight of the school, as if she’s trying to hide. I sit down beside her and open my lunch. She eyes my ham sandwich, but I don’t offer her a bite. Her split lip still looks sore. I try not to stare while I wait for her to say something.
“So, what do you think really happened to me this morning?” she finally says.
“What I don’t believe is that you were attacked by a stranger. What I do hope, is that you weren’t smacked around by someone you know. It has to be one or the other though, right?”
She nods and stares into space for at least a full minute.
“Okay, so I had a huge fight with my mom,” she says. “About Mac. And she freaked.”
My sandwich feels very dry in my mouth. “Come on. She didn’t hit you.”
She sort of nods again, but won’t look me in the eye.
“Yelled at me to get my act together this morning. Slapped me when I mouthed off and shoved her. So I ran out of the house and wandered around instead of coming to school in time for first period. She’s being such a bitch. So, anyway, are we on for this weekend or what?”
“That’s it? That’s all you’re giving me, and you expect me to be good with it?” There has got to be way more to this than she’s willing to share. The Mrs. Denton that I’ve known for ages would never, ever strike her daughter. I stare at Ellie and wait.
“Yes, that’s it. Why does she have to be such a jerk about me having a boyfriend?” Annoying pouty mouth. “She’s hated Mac ever since we got together. And she’s always pissed with me.”
“Clearly your mom’s sick of the way you’ve been acting, Ellie. And you just keep on finding new ways to make her crazy. But I don’t believe that she hit you.”
“My mother doesn’t get me, won’t even try, doesn’t even care. So are you helping me out or what? Can I stay at your place Friday night?” Now her voice is sweet and soft and desperate. She doesn’t care if I believe her story. She just wants me to feel bad for her, so I’ll say yes.
I don’t even have to think twice about my answer. “Nope.” I stand up. “Not this time. I don’t feel like watching you crash and burn.”
Stunned silence for a moment. “You know what, Clem?” A hard and furious voice. “You are a complete and total —”
I hold up my hand. “Don’t even say it.”
Ellie gets up slowly and brushes off the seat of her jeans.
“Okay, then. Guess it’s time for me to give up everything I know. About what happened with you and Kit that night.” She crosses her arms and aims her stormy brown eyes at mine.
I give her my best Cheshire Cat smile. “Go right ahead. Because deep down I have a feeling you know more about what happened that night than I do. And you’re even more afraid than I am for the truth to come out. So just go for it. Tell somebody. Give it all up, once and for all, Ellie. I dare you.”
By the change in her face, I know I’ve nailed it. Her smug air of confidence and control dissolves right before my eyes. For a fleeting moment she looks a bit like the old Ellie I once knew, the girl I actually cared about a lot.
“You are so full of crap.” A tremor to her voice now. “You make me absolutely sick.” Then something shifts in her face, and she half smiles. “Kit’s mom is st
ill looking for answers. Maybe it’s time for the truth to finally come out about what Spencer did to Kit that night.”
A mild shockwave buzzes through my body. I narrow my eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean, Ellie? That you’re going to feed Ms. Stitski a bunch of lies? Just like you do to everyone else?”
She looks stunned for a second and stands there blinking before gaining her composure. “Well, I guess it means whatever you want it to mean, Clementine,” she says.
Then she walks off toward the school doors, leaving me there knowing that things have definitely changed between the two of us, that they might be even worse now. Because I have a sinking feeling I know exactly who started that fight rumour. But why, Ellie? Why?
“You absolutely sure you’re ready for this, Clem?”
I might never be, but Jake is gazing at me so intently, all I can do is nod. I’m willing to bet he’s hoping I’ll say no, so he can be off the hook, too. But it’s something we need to do.
I still haven’t shared what Ellie and I said to each other today. I’m afraid he’d totally lose it if he knew that Spencer’s name came up. And besides, maybe she was only calling my bluff, trying to scare me as much as I scared her when I dared her to come clean. She could be faking me out by trying to prove that she has the guts to put the blame on Spencer, and eventually maybe even me, since she knows my secret. If only I could find out what she’s really hiding behind all those masks she wears.
“I’m ready. Let’s do this before we totally chicken out again,” I say.
We climb on the bus together. Then we’re on our way toward the sprawling subdivision where Kit once lived, at the edge of town, not too far from the quarry. We’re taking our chances that Ms. Stitski will be home from her office, or the courthouse, or wherever it is that she spends her busy days.
The usual landmarks, streets, churches, and plazas give way to unfamiliar surroundings. I’ve never had any reason to venture into this part of town. Its opulence is totally intimidating. Kit always had to take the school bus to school. I’m close enough to walk or ride my bike.