“See you later, Davey-boy,” his mom whispered at the closed door.
All eyes followed the new kid as the dog led him down the sidewalk. He turned abruptly and aimed for the mall.
A few featureless shops hung off the end of the parking lot. Abandoned grocery carts littered the parking spaces. A group of teens shared a smoke in front of the video store. There were two ways he could avoid them: go behind the mall onto a scruffy field, or angle toward a cluster of duplexes down the street. Although he wanted to let Buddy run, the dark was gathering and he opted for the street.
The day after they’d left Edmonton, Sgt. Sandhu had driven them around Saskatoon in the afternoon heat to show them the places they were supposed to be ‘from.’ They’d cruised bumpy streets. Single-storey houses older than Grandma and Grandpa’s huddled unevenly, back from the sidewalks. They were almost all the same. Steep-pitched roofs ended in wobbly gutters added like an afterthought.
“This district’s called Greenview,” Sgt. Sandhu said. “These houses were built in wartime. You can see some of them have been nicely kept up, and some of them haven’t. The original owners usually live in the nice-looking ones. The others tend to be rented by lower-income people with young children and immigrants on their way to something better. We picked this neighborhood because there aren’t many families like yours, so it’s unlikely you’ll bump into someone who actually lived here. All the street names start with Green – Greenhill, Greenway, Greentree – easy to remember.”
Mom wrote it down.
A stumble over a frost-heave on the Winnipeg sidewalk jolted Danny back to the present. Dusk was falling. He ran his fingers through his hair. Part of him wanted to get off this road and back into the condo. Another part of him didn’t want to ever return to the place he already despised. He chewed his lower lip and then steered Buddy back to the complex. As they rounded the far side, he saw a sign he hadn’t noticed before. It announced the condo complex’s name: New Haven.
New Haven!
His mom and sister were cuddling on the couch when Danny returned. His mom looked tense and she rose to greet him.
He shuffled his feet. “Do we – should we take off our shoes at the door?”
“I think it’s okay to keep them on. We won’t worry about it.”
He bent to unsnap the leash and spoke without looking up. “Where should we keep Buddy’s dishes?”
“I’ve put them in the basement. The front entrance is too small, and in the kitchen he’d just be underfoot.” She paused. “And it’s only for a while, a few weeks…”
“Okay,” he replied. Buddy’s nose had already led him to the bottom of the stairs. Mom had moistened the food just the way he liked it. His muzzle dove into the water dish.
Danny scanned the basement. Someone had laid thin linoleum tiles over the concrete floor. A metal stand supported an old portable TV made before there were remote controls. A ratty couch and chair faced the dusty screen. Someone had tacked old tablecloths over two narrow windows, making the room gloomy. He sighed, turned his back, and went up to his bedroom.
He threw his suitcases on the bed and began to unpack. He tried to organize his things in the drawers and closet the same way he’d had them at home, but a week’s worth of clothes ate up all the space. He had to hang his hoodies in the closet. He dumped his sports gear on the closet floor. It’s a good thing the rest of my stuff won’t arrive until we move to a bigger place, he thought. There was no desk. He’d have to do his homework at the kitchen table. He was tired, but he’d forgotten his watch so he didn’t know what time it was. But it didn’t really matter anymore, did it? The only time he cared about was the time this would all be over. Until then, he’d coast.
Mom had settled on the living room couch in a shaft of morning sunlight. She was studying the newspapers Sgt. Sandhu had bought in Saskatoon so she would know a little more about the place. She lifted her head. “Good morning. I was hoping you’d come with me to the grocery store so we can buy some food. We need breakfast.”
Danny rarely went for groceries. Mom and Jennifer shopped. He spent time with Dad.
Dad. He swallowed and then focused on his mom’s request. But – no car. They’d left it at Grandma and Grandpa’s. They’d have to walk and carry back their groceries.
“I have some money from Grandma and Grandpa, and Sgt. Sandhu gave us some too. You can pick out some things you like,” she said lightly.
Danny squinted. “When’re we gonna get a car?”
“It’ll have to wait until we get the money from the house sale.”
He didn’t want the house sold. But they needed the money, and after all, he didn’t want to live this way, not all the way ’till Christmas.
“I’m sorry, I know this isn’t what you want, but I need your help. And we need to work together.” They locked eyes. Her lined face looked tired but her gaze was strong, and her eyes tugged him into today’s reality. Monday, August 12th: the day of his father’s release.
Mom and Jennifer held hands while Danny dragged behind. Someone had set a grass fire on the field behind the mall. The ground was scorched as black as asphalt. An old school was perched on the field’s far edge. It was in even worse shape than the one Sgt. Sandhu had shown them – Greenview Elementary – the one he was supposed to have ‘attended’ in Saskatoon.
They filled six grocery bags in short order. Mom scooped up their favorite treats: microwave popcorn for Jennifer and ketchup potato chips for him. As they trudged back she said, “Since we can’t carry too much at a time, we’ll have to shop again tomorrow. But this way we won’t buy too much, seeing as we’re moving soon anyway.”
They loaded the groceries into the empty cupboards. The few bags of food left them looking bare.
“Let’s have lunch,” Mom said.
Danny got out the dishes. There were exactly four of everything: bowls, plates, mugs, knives, forks, and spoons. They’d have to do dishes by hand three times a day. No stacking them into the dishwasher to run once a day.
“After lunch,” Mom said, “we’ll take the bus and get you registered in your new schools.”
“Why can’t we take a taxi?” Danny whined.
Catherine took a breath before answering. “Well, two reasons. First, even though Grandma and Grandpa gave us some money, I need to be careful with it, because it’s going to be a while before our first payment comes from the government. Second, you’ll know which bus to take when you go to school.”
“Why do we have to take a bus at all?” challenged Danny. “I saw a school across from the mall.”
“Well, the schools you’re registering in are in the district we’ll be moving to when we buy our house. That way you won’t have to change schools after just a month. And they’re better schools than the ones here.” She paused. “You must believe we’ve thought this through and have a plan to make this as painless as possible. I’m taking charge now, and I’m going to take care of you. Things will all work out, you’ll see.”
Danny got up to leave.
“I’ll do the dishes,” she said. “Why don’t you two go outside for a bit, and maybe meet some of the neighbors?”
“What’s the point?” Danny retorted. “You just said we’re moving soon anyway.”
Chapter 3
Catherine unfolded bus schedules and a city map. “The bus goes from here at 1:10 p.m. Today we have to make a transfer, but don’t worry. On school days, the bus is direct. Okay?” She tucked the family history into her purse.
The bus came late, which meant the connecting bus had left the transit station before they arrived. There wouldn’t be another for twenty minutes. Catherine gave them coins for the vending machine. Danny idly kicked a stone around the pavement. Not many people waited at the station, mainly elderly ladies and young-looking mothers pushing baby strollers with wheels as big as Danny’s bike’s. He leaned against the bus shelter’s outside wall, even though the wind had picked up and it was cool for a mid-August day.
; On the bus, he sat alone at the back. Mom guided Jennifer onto a seat nearby. Fifteen minutes later they turned into a residential district. Well-tended lawns surrounded trim houses in orderly rows. Mature maple trees alternated with hedges. Generous green fields opened on each side of the road. He could see a school – no, two schools – ahead. Jennifer pulled the cord to ring the bell. “Later, the whole ride will take you twenty minutes at most,” Mom reassured them as they waited for the back doors to open. “Don’t worry.”
The schools faced each other – École Westlawn Elementary School, and Queen Elizabeth Junior High.
“Let’s register you first…David,” Mom said. “We’ll do Julia after that.”
He dragged behind her.
A woman about Mom’s age gazed at a computer. “I’ll be with you in a sec,” she said from her desk.
“Jewel, do you want to go outside and look around while we register?” Mom asked.
“No,” the girl replied, slipping her hand into her mother’s.
Danny sat in one of the chairs along the opposite wall. Sunlight spread through a large window.
“I’m Theresa Helpan. How can I help you?”
“I’d like to register my son for school.”
“Are you new to the neighborhood?”
“Yes, we’ve just moved here from…Saskatoon.”
“Okay,” she said, reaching into a filing cabinet for some papers. “Since you’re new, you’ll have to fill out this form.” She handed Catherine a pen and a sheaf of papers. “Did you bring his school records from Saskatoon?”
“Nooo,” Mom hesitated. “We…couldn’t get them in time.”
“All right,” Ms. Helpan smiled. “But we’ll need them as soon as possible.”
“No problem,” Catherine replied. She moved toward one of the chairs.
“You can fill them out here at the counter,” the secretary volunteered. “It’s easier to write.”
“That’s okay,” Catherine mumbled as she took a seat. Once the secretary was back at her desk, she pulled the family’s new history from her purse. She pretended to use it as a writing surface while furtively checking the information. When she finished, she placed the form on the counter.
The secretary frowned at the form. “This is a closed boundary school. You live outside our boundaries. I’m afraid you can’t register here.”
“But the place we’re at is just…temporary. We’re buying a house in this neighborhood. We plan to move on the first of October – and I don’t want to register my son at another school and then transfer here after just a month. And I have my daughter,” she lied, pointing at Jennifer, “already registered at the school across the street.”
The secretary looked dubious. “For sure by the first of October? Our cut-off date is September thirteenth.”
“Would you please extend it for us? I need just a little more time. My parents passed away and I’m using my inheritance to buy the house, but I won’t have the money for another month or so,” she said, looking directly into the secretary’s eyes.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Ms. Helpan’s voice softened. “I’ll talk with the principal and see if he’ll make an exception.”
“Thank you very much.”
“You’re welcome. Now, I still need to make a copy of your son’s –” she scanned the paper for Danny’s name.
“It’s David. His name is David,” repeated his mother. “I’m sorry, he’s been a little distant, what with his grandparents dying and all. He hasn’t adjusted to things – yet.”
“Of course. It must be difficult.” She smiled at Danny but he remained stone-faced. “May I have his birth certificate?”
“I’m sorry,” Mom faltered. “I left that in Saskatoon by mistake. With some of the papers I left with the lawyer,” she finished lamely.
“Well,” she replied. “I’ll have the principal call and let you know whether he can enroll here. You can give us a copy of the birth certificate and his school records then.” She looked at the form and furrowed her brows. “You haven’t filled in your phone number,” she said.
“Our phone isn’t connected yet. We just moved in yesterday. They said it would be about a week. I’ll call you just as soon as we have it.”
“Ah. Very well. And you should know we can’t pay for the bussing since you’re out of the district.” The secretary seemed uncomfortable with all the uncertainties. She reached under the counter for another form and offered it to Danny. “Here, take this. It’s a list of options. As soon as your spot’s confirmed, I’ll need to know your choices so we can schedule your timetable. And this is the school supply list.”
Danny didn’t budge. His mom reached for the papers. “I’ll take that,” she said, “and I’ll be sure he fills it out.”
“That’s fine. Well, good-bye…” the secretary looked at the form again “…Ms. Mayer. We’ll be in touch.”
“Susan,” replied Catherine. “Please call me Susan.”
Once outside, Catherine spoke to Danny through gritted teeth. “You’re not making this any easier. Would you please cooperate?”
“Didn’t you teach me, if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all?”
She kept her eyes on her son. “Please?” she asked again.
He looked at the ground.
“Jennifer – Julia – let’s go register at your school. David – you can wait outside, look around.”
Jennifer took her mom’s hand as they crossed the street. Once they’d disappeared into the elementary school, Danny gazed around. Soccer pitches, baseball diamonds, playgrounds, and bicycle paths stretched behind both schools. Farther back, behind the junior high, it looked like there was still another school with a green belt all around it. In spite of himself, he was impressed. It’ll do until Christmas, and it’ll be great for Buddy, too.
Soon Jennifer and Mom came out, holding hands and laughing.
“That didn’t take long,” Danny grumbled.
“The school didn’t seem as hung up on details and I was better prepared,” his mom said. She stopped laughing and stared at Danny.
She sees I look like my dad, now that we’re away from him. That’s why she never laughs with me, he thought.
“Let’s go,” Catherine said. “It’s three-thirty and we can catch the bus straight home.” She smiled, but only with her lips. “Why don’t you take Buddy for a walk?” Mom suggested as she unlocked the door. She didn’t have to suggest it – Buddy insisted.
This time, the late-afternoon sun encouraged them to roam farther along the residential streets and bike paths separating one condo complex from another. People swung their cars into the mall parking lot to make last-minute dinner purchases. Instead of staying on the road, Danny turned right, toward the mall and the field. Sure enough, there was that school. Brown brick, single storey, with a flat tar and gravel roof. A tarmac skirt led to half a dozen portables strung along the sides. A few children took turns bouncing a striped rubber ball against the wall, careful to avoid the windblown paper cups and Styrofoam boxes at its base. Buddy was a kid magnet, so Danny detoured around them toward the portables.
Metal grates covered windows set high into the walls. Four wooden steps led to each padlocked, steel door. A tattered flag hung at the top of a steel pole that had once been painted white.
Danny crossed the dusty lawn. Harry Smith Junior High, he read. He circled the building, walking to the empty oil-stained parking lot. Beyond it lay a weedy field with a ball diamond backstop and a soccer pitch. He tilted his head to the side. How could the small field fit two playing areas? Dry grass crunched underfoot as he scanned the area. The two fields actually overlapped one another. Home plate was off to the side of the far goalposts. First base was scuffed into one half of the soccer field, and second base was on its touch line. Only third base lay outside the soccer field. A pitcher’s mound, unevenly covered in red shale, sat right on the center line of the soccer field.
Queen Elizabeth Junior High was starting t
o look even better.
“Tomorrow we’ll come back with your Frisbee, okay Bud?” he said to his impatient dog. They headed home for supper. Danny ignored the kids’ pleas to play with the dog, and two sharp tugs got Buddy through the door.
“Oh good, you’re home,” his mom said when the screen door slammed. “Your sister’s out back playing with some kids. Would you please call her in?”
Peering through the back door he saw Jennifer off to the side, turning a skipping rope for some girls who looked a couple of years younger than she was. They giggled as each slap of the rope tore out a few more blades of grass.
Danny opened his mouth to call her and then caught his breath. What was he going to call her? He couldn’t say Jennifer. He wouldn’t say Julia. He turned and started for the stairs. “You call her. I’m feeding Buddy,” he snapped.
He grabbed the water dish and opened the basement door. A furnace and a stubby water heater took up one wall and empty storage shelves climbed another. The bag of dog food leaned against bare concrete between exposed wood studs. Copper pipes trailed down into a deep laundry tub. Someone had replaced one tub leg with a length of two-by-four. Yellowish-brown rust stains covered the bottom and crept up the sides of the once-white plastic sink. He quickly rinsed and filled the dog dish.
He heard his mother. “Jewel, come in, it’s time to eat.”
Okay, he thought. Nicknames. He’d never used his sister’s nickname, but it kind of made it like it was before. I can do nicknames, he decided.
Jennifer chattered at the table. “They’re mostly younger than me, Mom, but lots of ’em are girls, and it’s almost like they’re competing to play with me. It’s kinda fun, they wanna show me everything. I mean, they’re young and all, but I’ll have lots of company ’till we move to the new house.”
“That’s sounds great, Jewel,” Mom replied, stroking her daughter’s arm. She turned to Danny. “What about you? Maybe you should get out and meet some of the kids….” Her voice hung in the air.
“No.”
“It’ll give you some time to practice for school. They’re young, they won’t ask so many questions about you.”
The Second Trial Page 12