“Where else have you traveled?”
“Oh, all over. Ireland, Spain, Croatia, Austria, Germany, Poland . . . Do you want me to keep going?”
I laugh. “Tell me your favorite place.”
“That’s impossible! All right, I suppose I would say Italy because of the sculpture and art. Oh, and the fountains and the food and the cappuccinos. I know, that’s what everybody says. Croatia reminded me of a smaller and less-busy Italy, which I liked. On that trip we rented a car and drove to the little towns along the coast. You could pull over practically anywhere and take a dip in the ocean. Then we hopped on a train to Vienna. I spent most of my time at the MuseumsQuartier.”
“Wow. It must be amazing to be able to travel to another country so quickly. Canada is so big.”
“I like that about it. I like the space, that you aren’t crowded by other people like you are in London. I love the big sky and the mountains and the wilderness. I want to try skiing in the winter, and in the summer we’re going on holiday to Vancouver Island. We’ll drive through British Columbia and visit beaches, try surfing in Tofino, and look for whales. Have you been?”
“I have.” I remember Adam, Audrey, and me searching for crabs in the tide pools on Rathtrevor Beach. Adam telling us, Be careful not to step on them; we don’t want to hurt them. The memory is sweet but painful.
“I love traveling. It’s good to see other places and people and be pulled out of your own little bubble. When I felt sad as a child, my parents used to take us away for a weekend and we’d have so much fun as a family, I’d forget everything that was happening at school.”
I remember what Taylor said that day in the stairwell about the baggage of their childhood, and this time I can’t help but ask what they meant.
They shift in their chair before responding. “I guess by baggage I meant the reputation I had and the way I felt about myself when I was younger. Growing up, the other kids didn’t exactly like me. In primary school boys and girls all played together, but in lower secondary school it was as if a line was drawn and I was supposed to pick a side, only no one wanted me. The girls ran away from me when I tried to join them and whispered about me in class, and the boys didn’t let me play football with them. I read a lot of books and watched a lot of TV.”
I don’t know what to say. My heart aches, thinking of Taylor as a tiny kid alone on the playground.
“My parents were worried about me being lonely, so they suggested I register in something after school, and I chose dance. I’m so glad I did. I discovered I’m really good at it, and I met friends who weren’t afraid of being different or weird. My dance friends actually wanted to stand out and be noticed. They were loud and silly and fun. Going to the studio after school felt like . . . like being a turtle and finally reaching the sea.”
Wow. Goose bumps break out all over my body, and tears prick my eyes. I cradle my mocha with both hands as Taylor looks out the window, a smile playing on their lips.
“My dance friends made me realize you can choose who you want to spend time with and how you want to live your life, you know? Some people go through their whole lives feeling afraid. When I’m a dance therapist, I hope to help people rediscover what it felt like to be a kid, before we started worrying about what everyone thought about us. We’ll move however our bodies feel like moving and let the rest of our lives just . . . disappear.”
That’s exactly how I felt when Taylor and I danced at the club that night. It felt like going back in time to the person I used to be, back when I was close with Audrey.
“Was it hard to leave your dance friends and move to Calgary?”
“It was. But for the first time, I’m glad I did.”
“Because of all the rain, right?” I joke. “You finally feel at home?”
“No, because of you.” Taylor gives me a look that makes my entire body flush.
The question I’ve been wanting to ask them since we decided to go on a date is on the tip of my tongue, and I’m terrified to ask in case it’s somehow insulting, but at the same time I really want to know. “Can I ask you a question that might sound stupid?”
“Shoot.”
I shift in my chair. Take a sip of my mocha and quickly put it back down. Better to just get it out. “Are you attracted to me more as a girl or a guy?”
“I’m attracted to Clare the person. I’m attracted to your soul.”
I’m attracted to your soul. That’s the perfect way to describe it—like falling in love with the person and their individual energy.
“I feel the same way about you. It’s almost a magnet drawing me to you.” My cheeks heat at how lame that sounds, but Taylor doesn’t laugh at me. “I felt it for the first time during your bio presentation, when we made eye contact across the room. There was a connection between us.”
“Perhaps the gods tied red strings around our ankles. Have you heard of the red thread of fate? We’re destined to be in each other’s lives because the gods tied us together.”
“I like that idea.”
Taylor leans forward across the table, close enough to kiss. “Want to know why I like you? Because I see the real you, Clare. I see the kind, protective, and sensitive soul that you are, and it makes me want to be a better person too.”
I look down at the white tablecloth. “No one would ever call me kind.”
“I just did. I know that’s why you struggle with Audrey. An unkind person wouldn’t care so strongly.”
I nod because I can’t speak. I’m afraid if I do much more, I might cry.
“Whatever happened between the two of you, you’ll find your way back to each other.”
“I hope so,” I say, and mean it.
The rain has stopped and the sun is setting, painting orange, pink, purple across the sky. The stars will be out soon.
Taylor takes a final sip of their mocha and places their mug to the side. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Of course.”
“You’re my first datemate. Ever.”
“You’re my first datemate too. I’ve only ever been attracted to two people: you and someone else I shouldn’t have been attracted to.” The moment the words are out of my mouth, my cheeks flush with embarrassment. I can’t believe I just said that.
“Why shouldn’t you have been attracted to them?”
I squirm in my chair nervously, but Taylor just waits, giving nothing away. I have to look down at my mocha as I begin my confession.
“Because she was dating someone else. Someone close to me.” My face and ears suddenly turn hot as the hurtful things Sharon said to me about wanting to be my brother pop into my mind, and I know I won’t be able to follow through—I won’t be able to tell the whole story. “Do you think that makes me a bad person?”
“That you realized you were attracted to someone else’s girlfriend? No. People often want someone they can’t have, and you never acted on it, right?”
“No.”
Taylor reaches out and takes both my hands so we’re now entwined above and below the table. “I’m really glad I met you. I’m glad the gods didn’t tie the red string around some other fool’s ankle.”
I laugh. “Me too.”
It’s a perfect night, a perfect first date, and I wonder how I ever felt jealous of Audrey when Calvin called. That lonely person doesn’t exist anymore. What exists is here and now, safely tucked away at a cozy table with Taylor while the rest of the world speeds by.
* * *
Saturday afternoon, I receive a Facebook notification letting me know I was tagged in a poll created by Megan, a girl in my grade I’m not really friends with but whose friend request I accepted years ago. When I click on the notification, my heart literally stops.
Attached to the poll are two pictures: Taylor and me at the Italian restaurant holding hands across the table, and a side-by-side comparison of me dressed in my old clothes and Adam’s clothes. I have to read the words over and over again until I can process that they’re really there and this is actually hap
pening.
Vote, people! Will Clare return to school next fall as a girl or a guy?
Guy is winning by a landslide.
My hand shakes as I scroll through the voters. Billy, no surprise, voted guy. I feel my gut clench every time I see someone I used to think liked me voting “against” me—people from my grade but also the grades above and below. Then there are a bunch of fake accounts with only one or two friends, usually each other. People hate me enough to make fake accounts just to bash me.
Sharon & Co. haven’t voted, even though I’m sure they saw it. But even if they did vote girl, it wouldn’t make me feel better. There are a few votes “for” me, but I know they’re supporting the old me, the popular Clare, and that girl doesn’t exist anymore.
I report the poll to Facebook and delete Megan, but one of her friends tags me again. I repeat the process and it happens again so that I’m deleting “friends” every few hours. My stomach is in knots. Every time I receive a Facebook notification, I open it up and try to mitigate the damage. Then I run to the bathroom and either puke or dry heave.
The ’rents are surprised to find out I’m not going out on a Saturday night and ask if I want to go for dinner with them and Audrey. I tell them I’m not feeling well. After they leave, Taylor calls, but I don’t answer. Not because I’m ashamed of the picture of us together, but because I’m ashamed of how I’m reacting to the bullying.
I thought I was doing okay. I have new friends. Only Billy and Sharon and their friends taunted me at school, but now, behind the safety of their computers and phones, the rest of the kids have an outlet to say what they’re too afraid to say to my face . . . and it’s completely overwhelming. I can’t read all their hatred without feeling like I want to run away and hide forever.
Eventually Taylor messages me and tells me to stop deleting the post. They’re Internet trolls who feel better about themselves when they bash other people online. The more you fight them, the more you fuel them.
I message back that I’m going off Facebook for a while. With my headphones on, I crank up my music to block out the rest of the world, and write myself a letter while I release all the tears and stress. Then I read and reread my words until I finally believe them.
You’ll get through this. People making fun of you doesn’t change who you are.
It doesn’t make you worthless.
Not everyone will like you. It’s just not possible.
You’re never going to make everyone happy and you don’t have to argue or convince anyone else of anything. You know who you are and who you want to be. In the end that’s all that matters.
Audrey
It’s spring and thunderstorms are rolling over the prairies. I like to fall asleep counting the seconds between the lightning flashes and the clashes of thunder. When they are on top of each other, the storm is on top of me.
I’ve been counting every night for two weeks.
Water is backing up out of the drains and into the street. On the news a bunch of cars got stuck in an underpass and couldn’t drive out. Their cars started to float away. The people had to be rescued by firemen. Too bad they haven’t invented a car that turns into a boat.
If the rain continues like this, the dam is going to breach again, Mom says.
When did the dam breach? I ask.
In 2005. The reservoir got so full that the dam couldn’t contain it and water went over the dam. A lot of streets and houses flooded along the river.
That sounds like a natural disaster, I say.
Mom’s mouth goes really thin.
Did people have to canoe in the streets?
No. People weren’t allowed on the streets. The streets were closed.
So another natural disaster might happen in Calgary, I say. I think we’ll be prepared. But maybe we should move the water and food upstairs.
Mom throws her hands up. We won’t get flooded, Audrey! We didn’t in 2005 and we won’t now. We’re blocks away from the river and far down from the dam.
The people who got flooded had houses right on the river, Dad says. You know the Andersons? Their entire basement was flooded. They had just built a new house the year before, too. Such a shame. They had to take a chainsaw to their brand-new pool table just to get it out of there.
You’re scaring her. Mom gives him a look. Let’s stop talking about the dam.
Yeah, damn the dam! I say.
Dad laughs. Don’t worry about it, honey. We’ll be fine.
But things don’t seem fine. Mom and Dad keep the news on all the time, showing footage of flooded streets and riverbanks all over the city. More cars have gotten stuck.
The mayor’s Twitter feed flashes across the bottom of the screen: I can’t believe I actually have to say this, but the rivers are closed. I have strong words for the people I saw rafting on the Bow today, none of which I’m allowed to tweet.
Everyone at school is talking about it.
I thought our French exam would be canceled, Kira says. We never get snow days so we should get rain days.
Everyone laughs at the idea. Then on Thursday night it happens.
The doorbell rings, followed by three hard knocks. Whoever it is, they want to be heard.
I open the door. It’s a police officer. Across the street there is also a fire truck.
My heart goes into overdrive, but then I remember that everyone’s home. Mom and Dad are in the kitchen. Clare’s upstairs studying for her biology exam tomorrow. There’s not going to be another accident.
But a police officer at the door is not a good thing. Do police officers ever knock on the door to tell you good news? This one was the youngest officer I’d ever seen. He looked tired.
Are your mom or dad—er, parents home? He turns bright red. Sorry kid, long day.
I call over my shoulder to Mom. I don’t want to miss what he has to say.
Mom looks just as scared as me when she sees him. Is everything okay? she asks.
Good afternoon, ma’am. We’re going door-to-door this afternoon letting people know there’s been a mandatory evacuation. The dam is set to breach this evening. I’m going to have to ask you to leave the premises. Do you have family or friends you can stay with?
You’re evacuating us?
That’s right, ma’am. We’re suggesting you stay with family and friends until it is safe to return to your home.
Isn’t that a bit much? We’re three blocks from the river. We didn’t get flooded in 2005.
I’m sorry, but this is a mandatory evacuation. We’re not only concerned about flooding, but also power outages. Some areas like Mission have already lost power. So we’re evacuating neighboring areas, including yours. Downtown has been evacuated as well and schools are closed for the summer.
What about exams? Mom asks.
I believe they’ve been canceled. I’ll be back to check that you have vacated.
Then he leaves, presumably to go to the next house.
Mom closes the door angrily and marches off to find Dad. He’s still in the kitchen.
What was that about?
They’re evacuating us! An officer was at the door and said we have to go stay with someone.
That’s ridiculous!
I know, but he said it’s mandatory. We have to leave. Sounds like they’re more concerned about power outages than anything.
Dad stalks to the front door as if the officer will still be there. I hear him open and close it and then he returns. He rubs a hand on his jaw. There are army, police, and fire outside.
Should we go stay with your mother? Mom asks.
Dad sighs. I guess so . . .
Yay! I cheer. I love Grandma. She’s the funnest person in the world.
Funnest isn’t a word, Mom tells me.
I don’t think she should be worrying about grammar at a time like this.
Dad opens the fridge. If we lose power our food will rot.
Grab what you want and we’ll take it with us. Mom turns to me. Go upstairs and tell Clare
to pack.
I’m scared to talk to Clare. We haven’t really talked since our fight about Calvin. But when I tell her the news, she hugs me.
Are you saying I don’t have to go back to school this year?
Nope.
So I can stop studying?
Yes. Exams are canceled.
She hoots and slams her book closed. Tosses it across the room. My grades are already terrible, she says. As long as I pass, I don’t care what I get.
Are you worried about getting in trouble with Mom and Dad?
Nah. What will they do, ground me? I don’t want to see anyone all summer anyway.
So no Sharon for the entire summer? I hoot too and Clare hoots for a second time. Then we’re standing on Clare’s bed like we used to as kids, jumping and hooting. Reaching up to touch the ceiling. It’s easier now. But I lose my balance and almost knock off the boob light. When did it turn orange?
Stop jumping on the bed!
We both go still as statues. Mom is in the doorway looking furious. Are you trying to destroy the house? Drywall is practically raining down into the kitchen!
Clare wipes a hand through her hair even though there’s none left. Sorry, Mom. But aren’t you glad we’re getting along?
The moment Mom leaves, we burst into laughter.
The car is packed so full, Dad can’t even see out the back window as we drive. I’m kind of excited even though it’s an emergency. Grandma lives on a farm with horses and barn cats.
Only no one wants to ride the horses or pet the cats with me because they’re too worried. We try to play Monopoly, but the game goes on for hours until no one cares anymore. Then they tell me I won and we all go to bed.
In the morning the TV wakes me because Grandma is almost deaf and listens to it at max volume. I hear the words: the largest flood since 2005.
Mom, Dad, Grandma, and Clare are already crowded around the television. We see houses with a river raging past them. Except the river shouldn’t be there. It’s a street.
Calgary has turned into Venice, I say.
We are still in a state of emergency, the mayor says. Because the water is contaminated, we want to wait until it recedes before we allow residents to return to their homes. We understand that everyone is anxious to assess the damage but we are urging people to stay safe for now.
Under Shifting Stars Page 19