by Kit Pearson
Now her favourites were stories about families or stories about magic. Perfect books combined both, like the Narnia chronicles about four children who visited a magic land, or Half Magic, where a family found a coin that granted them half of each wish.
Theo knew the families in these books as well as if they were her own sisters and brothers. Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy in Little Women, Pauline, Petrova and Posy in Ballet Shoes, John, Susan, Titty and Roger in the “Swallows and Amazons” series …
Outside the window a siren wailed. Someone smashed a bottle and a man’s voice cursed. This was the scariest time of Theo’s evenings alone. After she finished reading, she couldn’t help thinking that someone might climb in the window, or that the rustling noises in the kitchen weren’t mice, but some kind of monster under the sink. Even if she had to pee, she couldn’t make herself get up this late; what if something was waiting in the bathroom to grab her? Sometimes she would wet the bed and Rae would yell at her in the morning.
If only Calico Cat were curled up on the end of her bed. Calico Cat had really belonged to the man down the hall in their last apartment. But many evenings she had come in Theo’s window and visited her, her elegant body twisting around Theo’s feet and purring. But when the landlord had raised the rent, they had had to leave that apartment, as they’d left so many. Did Calico Cat miss her? wondered Theo.
She clutched her old doll. Sabrina’s hair stood up in matted tufts all over her balding head. Her dirty rubber body smelled and she had a hole in one arm, carefully patched with a bandage. Her dress had once been pink but was now a stained grey.
But her blue eyes still opened and shut. Theo had had her for as long as she could remember. “It’s all right, Sabrina,” she whispered. “Don’t be scared.”
If she lay very still, she could usually escape into her going-to-sleep vision—what she would do if someone granted her a wish. If there really was magic, like a Psammead or a magic coin, Theo knew exactly what she’d wish for …
There would be four children, two boys and two girls. She would be the fifth, cozily in the middle with an older brother and sister to protect her, and younger ones to play with. There would a calm mother and father who never yelled or hit or complained to her. They would all live in a big warm house with lots of food, and new shoes whenever you needed them, and hundreds of books, and a cat …
Magic … that was what she needed. If only she had magic, Theo would wish for a family.
3
She sat beside her mother on the bus. At least it had stopped raining. And as much as she hated panning, it wasn’t as bad as binning—patrolling the lanes and fishing returnable bottles and other objects out of garbage bins. Theo shivered, trying not to think of the rats they sometimes surprised.
As the bus whined over the bridge to downtown, she gazed at the mountains that rose behind the skyscrapers. They looked so close. What if the bus kept going to the North Shore and climbed right to the top of that mountain? They would get out in dazzling snow. Maybe a different kind of people lived there, who looked like trolls. Maybe they would ask Theo …
“Theo, stop daydreaming! This is our stop!” Rae pulled her off the bus.
The stores had just opened and only a few people were outside. Theo stuck close to Rae as they walked down Granville Street looking for the best spot. In some of the doorways sleeping bodies were rolled up in blankets.
Rae picked a place on the sunny side of the street, in front of a service door between two theatres. She spread out the grey blanket from Theo’s bed and set up a portable tape recorder on it. In front of it she placed a shallow cardboard box holding a few coins. Then she sat down on the blanket and lit a cigarette. She got out the sign saying “We Are Hungry” and leaned it against her knees.
“Take off your jacket,” she told Theo.
“Can’t I wait a while? There’s no one around, and it’s cold.”
“A bunch of people just got off that bus. Please, Theo … you’ll warm up after you start.”
Theo took off her jacket. Underneath was a short frilly dress that pulled under the armpits—she’d had it for three years. Her legs were wrapped in grubby white tights and she wore her only shoes, the cracked runners. She hugged her chest as she waited for Rae to switch on the tape recorder.
“Okay, kid. Go to it.”
As the familiar opening to the Nutcracker began, Theo started to dance. She jumped around awkwardly in a kind of jig.
More people began to fill up the sidewalk, but no one put any coins in the box.
“Smile!” said Rae, as the relentless tune continued. A woman and child came out of the fast-food restaurant on the corner. They stopped in front of them. Theo tried to smile and examine them at the same time. The girl was about her age, dressed in a red duffel coat and a bright blue beret. She gaped at Theo as if she were from another planet.
“Poor little thing,” said the girl’s mother. She opened her purse. “Here, Caitlin, give her this.”
The girl advanced gingerly, dropped a ten-dollar bill into the box, ran back to her mother and took her hand.
“Doesn’t she make you feel lucky?” said the woman as they walked away. Caitlin glanced back over her shoulder. She looked scared.
Theo wondered why she wasn’t in school at this time of day. Maybe she was on the way to the dentist’s and was having a treat first—kids did that in books. Theo hadn’t been to a dentist since the last time they were on welfare, two years ago.
“Ten dollars!” said Rae. “What a great start!” The tape had ended and she flipped it over.
“Can’t I rest?” asked Theo.
“After this side. We can’t stop while we’re having so much luck.”
The music on the second side was slower: selections from Swan Lake. Theo made vague, ballet-like movements with her arms and legs and tried to pretend she was Posy from Ballet Shoes. Several more passersby stopped and dropped some change into the box. They acted either mushy or embarrassed. No one else left any bills.
Theo hated the way they stared at her as if she were a performing animal. When she’d been four and five she hadn’t minded as much. She’d skipped around and they’d received more money. Now Rae had to keep reminding her to lift up her feet and smile.
At last she was allowed to have a break. She and Rae huddled on the blanket and took turns sipping tea out of the Thermos Rae had brought. They kept the music on and a few people still dropped coins in the box. “Look sad,” whispered Rae. That was easier than trying to smile.
THEY KEPT AT IT for three hours. More and more people filled up the sidewalks and the air became warmer. Vendors set up jewellery stands which sparkled in the sun. A few other panhandlers appeared. One played a violin so well that Theo wished they could shut off their tinny music and just listen. A tattered man sat bleakly a few yards away, hardly looking up when someone dropped money in his hat. Buses screeched and steamed up and down the street and couriers on fast bikes zoomed by.
The pile of change in the box was growing. They were having such a lucky day that Rae wouldn’t let Theo rest much. The soles of her feet stung and she felt dizzy.
“How dare you!” A tall, sleek woman in a navy blue suit was standing in front of them. Theo stopped dancing. The woman was glaring at Rae.
“How can you exploit your own child like that? Can’t you see she’s exhausted? You people make me sick. Why don’t you get a job?”
Rae jumped up and hurled such a strong volley of swear words at the woman that she backed up. She turned and walked quickly away.
“What nerve!” Rae was clenching her fists and breathing hard. “It’s none of her business! You’re my child, not hers!”
She looked at Theo and her expression became even angrier. “Sit down! Why didn’t you tell me you were tired?” Theo collapsed on the blanket and her mother switched off the tape recorder. “I can’t stand this stupid music any longer!”
She leaned against the door and closed her eyes. Cautiously, Theo moved back a
nd joined her.
The violinist had moved on. Pigeons strutted up and down the sidewalk. Theo could smell hot oil from the restaurant. Her stomach gurgled and she wondered what they were going to do for lunch. But Rae kept perfectly still with her eyes closed. Was she still angry? Was she asleep? Then Theo noticed that tears were sliding out from her lowered lids.
“Rae? Are you all right?”
Rae opened her eyes, flicked the tears away and lit a cigarette. “Oh, Kitten … what kind of life is this?” Her voice was broken. “Look at us! Two beggars …”
“We made a lot of money,” ventured Theo.
“It won’t last long. I’m so sick and tired of struggling for money all the time. I don’t know how—”
“Rae!” Two women and a man stood in front of them.
Rae looked up. Her bleak expression turned to delight. “Cal! And Myrna and Cindy!”
The three sat down on the blanket and they all started talking to Rae at once. “Where have you been all this time? How’s it going?”
Finally they noticed Theo. “Do you remember us?” said the woman called Cindy. “We all used to share a house. You were the house baby! You were such a quiet little thing—we barely knew you were there.”
Theo shook her head. “I don’t remember.”
“How old are you now?” asked Myrna. “Six?”
“Nine,” muttered Theo.
“You’re awfully skinny—you probably don’t get enough to eat,” said the woman sadly. “I had to give up my little girl, because I couldn’t afford to feed her. She’s in foster care now. But I’m getting her back one day.” Her eyes filled with tears.
“So this is your kid,” said Cal. “Hi, there!” He had a handsome face and a wide smile, but his breath reeked of liquor. Theo turned her head. At least Rae didn’t drink—she said it made her feel sick.
Theo watched her mother laugh with her friends. The fresh air had turned her cheeks pink and her hair glistened like a golden cloud. Rae would have made a good model or movie star. Perhaps she could have been one—if she hadn’t had a baby when she was sixteen.
The friends wandered off. “I’ll come and see you at work,” the man called.
Rae watched them until they went around the corner. Then she picked up the box of money and counted it. “Twenty-seven dollars! That’s because of that first woman. Want to have a hamburger, kid?”
Theo couldn’t believe her ears. She hadn’t had a meal out since Christmas. They rolled up the tape recorder and the Thermos in the blanket and went into the restaurant on the corner.
Theo gobbled up her cheeseburger. Rae grinned at her. “Good, huh? Take your time—there’s plenty more.” Now she was in a fantastic mood. The tiny table was loaded with milkshakes and fries and a hamburger each. Rae looked proud that she could afford to give her child all this.
Theo looked around the pink and grey space full of hungry people gorging themselves. A woman smiled at her. Maybe she was thinking, What a happy mother and daughter! Like Caitlin and her mother.
For a moment Theo was only here—not wishing or pretending she were somewhere else. Everything was so simple; her hunger was satisfied and her mother was focusing entirely on her.
But then Rae began to go on and on about Cal. “I didn’t even know he remembered me! I haven’t seen him for four years at least. He was living with Anne-Marie then. Now he’s alone. I think he’s good-looking, don’t you? And he must make decent money, being in construction. Did you hear him say he’d come and see me at work? Do you think he will?”
Rae’s face was so hopeful and animated. Theo’s full stomach let her feel sorry for her mother. “I’m sure he will,” she said.
But she sighed. Now it would begin again—Rae and a new man. Every time her mother found one, she would rave about him for weeks. Then she’d get tired of him and would spend many more weeks complaining about him.
“I think something’s going to happen with Cal and me,” said her mother. “I can feel it in my bones. I’ve always liked him, ever since we lived on Rupert Street. He really seemed attracted, don’t you think?”
Theo nodded again. Rae was so relaxed, this might be a good moment to bring up the subject of new shoes.
But she’d waited too long. “What am I going to wear if he asks me out?” said Rae. “Let’s stop at the Bay basement before we go home—there’s enough money left to buy me some earrings.”
So much for new shoes. Theo stopped listening. She began staring at a family across the room—two little boys and their parents, who hung on every word they said. The boys began teasing their father about something. They looked like a proper family.
4
Rae began going out with Cal. She got her shift at work changed so she could see him every evening. She would meet Cal after work and come in very late.
Except for Wednesdays and Sundays, Rae’s days off, Theo only saw her mother at breakfast. She trudged to school each day and sat in a trance, her head full of the story she’d read the night before. Sometimes Mr. Barker had to shake her shoulder to get her attention. The mean kids gave up calling her “Licehead” and the nice ones gave up being friendly.
Even Angela had given her up, although sometimes she glanced at Theo with a hurt, puzzled expression.
Theo didn’t care. It was safe, being this invisible. School and home weren’t the real world anyhow—they were a dreary grey world that she only seemed to exist in.
The real world was the one in books. As soon as she got home from school, Theo fixed herself a quick sandwich or opened some beans and ate them cold from the can. She would prop open her new library book on the table, then move to the couch, then to bed, reading until she fell asleep.
Now she took home several books at once and got them safely back before Rae noticed. She probably wouldn’t have noticed anyway. She, too, was living in another world, a world with only her and Cal in it.
In the morning she’d tell Theo where they’d gone the night before—dancing or to a club. “He’s so nice to me!” she said. “He always pays, and he says I look like Julia Roberts. Do you think I do?”
Now Rae was only in bad moods on weekends, when Cal worked on an extra project out of town. On Saturday evenings and Sundays Rae shopped for food and, when she remembered, washed their clothes and hung them out on the balcony to dry. At these times Theo seemed to irritate her more and more.
“Look at these crumbs!” she scolded. “I’ve told you over and over not to eat in bed. You’ll just attract more mice.”
The first Sunday in February was particularly bad. The rain gushed out of the sky as if someone had forgotten to turn off a tap. Rae paced around the smoke-filled apartment, complaining endlessly about why Cal couldn’t give up his out-of-town job and see more of her.
Theo had finished all her books and was starting one over again—but Rae grabbed it and threw it on the floor so hard its cover came off. “You’re always reading! You never listen to me!”
In the evening, after a meagre supper of noodle soup and crackers, Rae seemed ready to burst. Even her usual TV programs couldn’t hold her attention.
“There’s absolutely nothing to do!”
Theo was staring at the TV screen while her fingers played with the sole of one of her runners. The whole front part had now split. Rae always had new clothes these days—Cal bought them for her.
“Could Cal buy me some new shoes?”
Slap! The blow came so quickly Theo didn’t have time to duck. She clutched her burning cheek while tears gathered in her eyes.
“Shoes!” fumed Rae. “Why do you make me feel so guilty all the time? Don’t you think I try? Is it my fault your feet grow so fast?”
Theo kept holding her cheek. She wondered if she dared get up and escape to her room.
Then her mother’s anger drained out of her and she looked ashamed. “Oh, Kitten … I’m sorry. Give me a hug.” Rae reached forward to touch her, but Theo moved to the farthest corner of the couch.
“
I just miss Cal so much I can’t stand it! I’ll tell you what, I’ll measure your foot tonight and stop off at Zeller’s tomorrow after work, okay?”
Theo didn’t answer. It was always like this. The only times Rae seemed to really care about her were after she had hit her. But those were the times when Theo felt the most removed.
“May I go to my room?” she asked stiffly.
Rae sighed. “Of course. You don’t have to treat me like an ogre. It was only a little slap.”
She always said that, too.
THE NEXT AFTERNOON Mr. Barker told Theo that the school counsellor wanted to see her. Theo slowly walked down the hall to Ms. Sunter’s office.
“Sit down, Theo. How are you today?”
“Fine.” Theo slid into a chair in front of Ms. Sunter’s desk. How many times had she sat in front of a desk while a nosy adult asked her questions? Sometimes it was a social worker, sometimes a principal or counsellor. Theo examined this one. Ms. Sunter was young and brisk, with pretty black hair and a tailored red pant suit.
She got straight to the point. “Theo, I’m going to ask you some questions and I want you to answer honestly and not be afraid—okay?”
“Okay,” said Theo. She braced herself to lie.
“Your teacher says that you are simply not there in class—that you daydream constantly, never do your homework and don’t try to make friends. He thought you just needed time to adjust, but you’ve been here for a month now with no improvement.” She smiled. “No one is angry with you. I’m sure there are good reasons why you can’t concentrate. Nothing you tell me will get you into trouble, do you understand? I just want to help you.” They all said that.
Ms. Sunter rifled through a file of papers. “Now let’s see …” She proceeded to recite Theo’s history to her, while Theo nodded in the appropriate spots. The names of her previous four schools. The seven places, including two shelters and one hotel, where she and Rae had lived. The times Rae had worked and the times, especially when Theo was a preschooler, when they’d lived on welfare.