Accomplice

by Valerie Sherrard

  The thought sneaks in that I’d have known with Devlin — I could predict what he’d do in most situations. I remind myself that Oscar isn’t Devlin.

  “Lexie?”

  I realize Oscar has been talking and I haven’t heard a word he’s said. “Sorry,” I tell him, “I guess I sort of drifted there.”

  “I’m getting used to that lately,” he says.

  “Sorry,” I say again.

  “I asked you if you want to come over. Mom’s got a property showing or meeting or something, so she left some cash for us to order a pizza. There’d just be the three of us.”

  That’s the only thing that’s a bit strange about dating one of the Lee twins. Oscar includes Vaughn in our plans on a pretty regular basis. Sometimes I feel as though I’m dating both of them.

  “I can’t.”

  He shrugs, like it doesn’t matter at all, but he doesn’t look too happy.

  “Sorry.”

  “Stop saying you’re sorry about everything,” he says, glancing down at me. “And don’t ask me if I’m mad, either. I hate that.”

  “I wasn’t going to ask you that,” I lie. Inside, I’m pleased that he knew it.

  “Right. Okay, so, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

  We’ve reached the stop and my bus is just pulling up. I board it and drop into a seat beside a woman who’s clutching her purse on her lap. Oscar disappears out of sight as the bus lurches forward and rolls along Birch Street. I stop looking out the window and my eyes rest for a second on the woman next to me. She’s staring ahead.

  Strangers hardly ever talk to each other on the bus. They spend most of their time taking care not to make eye contact, pretending to be looking out the window or at their hands or the seat in front of them. Anything to avoid speaking.

  Devlin, now, he’d talk to just about anyone. That’s actually how we first started going out.

  * * *

  I’m admiring my nails, which Dori has just done for me with her French manicure kit. (This is back when Dori was going to be a nail artist and do celebs’ nails in some sunny place.) It was a mature choice, going for the plain white tips instead of the glitzy nail art she always talked me into.

  “Know what they do when they declaw a cat?”

  I look up, surprised to see Devlin Mather facing me from the seat ahead.

  “People think they just take out the claws,” he says without waiting for me to answer.

  “They don’t?”

  “Nope. It’s brutal. They cut off the last bone — like if someone cut your fingers off at the last joint.”

  My fingertips curl into my palms and I shove my hands down to my sides. “That’s awful.”

  Devlin nods solemnly. “You have any cats?”

  “One,” I say. “Kramer. And he’s not declawed, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  “Actually, I was wondering if I could meet him sometime.”

  “You want to meet my cat?”

  “I really do.” He smiles and raises one eyebrow. “So, when can I come over?”

  I laugh. “You’re weird,” I tell him.

  He just smiles and waits.

  “Saturday,” I say. “Saturday after lunch. You can come over then.”

  “To meet Kramer,” he says. His smile grows.

  “Yes, of course. To meet Kramer.” My insides are fluttering.

  “I’ll be there,” he tells me, “at 1:37.”

  * * *

  Of course, that was the old Devlin, not the one who lives in his skin these days.

  There are times when I think about him that it feels like someone is standing on my chest.

  Chapter Four

  The house is oddly silent when I get home. Dad and Andrea won’t be off work for a couple of hours, but usually at least one of my sisters is home before me. Today, there’s no sign of either of them.

  Barb is seventeen and the oldest of the three of us, but she’s low functioning. The best way I can explain what she’s like is that she’s sort of stuck at about ten years old. Most days Barb gets home from her special school first, but a few times a month they stay late for some kind of special event. Those are the only times she’s late so this must be one of those days. Since the special-needs bus delivers her right to the door, she’d be here if her school was out.

  Lynne is thirteen and we’re fairly close, even though I’m three years older. We used to fight a lot, but things changed when Dad married Andrea a couple of years ago. After that, it got to be us against her. Andrea is about as two-faced as you can get. It didn’t take us long to see through her act.

  I probably sound like one of those kids who hang on to the hope that their parents will get back together, even though it’s obvious that’s never going to happen. That’s not how it is. My mom died when I was seven. The doctors said it was an aneurysm. All I knew was that one day I had a mother and the next day she was gone. I haven’t felt totally safe since.

  I was actually kind of glad when Dad started to see other women. I knew he was sad a lot, plus I thought it would be awesome to get a new mom. I pictured someone teaching us to make cookies and doing cool mother-daughter stuff. Well, trust me, that’s not Andrea. She’s all about herself and her job.

  She doesn’t even have to work. My dad says so all the time when she complains about being tired and stressed. I’m glad she never listens to him, though. I’d hate to have to see her when I get home from school every day. The empty house I’m in at the moment is way better than that!

  I’m not particularly surprised that Lynne isn’t here. She’s late getting home at least once a week. She’s probably with a friend. Goodness knows she has a lot them — more than I do, that’s for sure. Lynne has this happy way about her that makes people automatically like her.

  I toss my backpack into the hall closet. It can stay there until Monday for all I care. Year-end exams are next week, but there’s no point in trying to cram now. It’s not like I’m going to flunk anything; who cares about great marks?

  I make a stop in the kitchen where I spread peanut butter on half a dozen crackers then grab a bottle of Gatorade and head to the TV room. I sit there nibbling and staring at the screen without actually registering what’s on.

  Kramer appears from nowhere, lured, no doubt, by the sound of snacking. He purrs loudly and jabs his head into my leg to let me know he’s there.

  “Okay, okay.” I reach down to scratch behind his neck and offer him the last cracker. He sniffs at it and gives me a haughty look. I pop it into my mouth whole and go to the hall closet where we keep a ridiculously large assortment of cat snacks.

  I scatter some crunchy treats on the floor. He’s munching on them as the front door opens and Lynne comes in.

  “Thanks for nothing!” she yells at me.

  “You’re welcome,” I say. The stony look she gives me tells me she’s not amused. I vaguely wonder what I’ve done. Lynne’s not the sort to keep things bottled up — so I figure she’s about to tell me.

  Except she doesn’t. Instead, she bursts into tears and runs down the hall to her room. A trail of words I can’t make out follows her, ending with the slam of a door. I feel a pang of guilt, but manage to turn it into anger within minutes.

  “You’d think she was ten instead of thirteen,” I mutter to myself. “What a baby. Besides, it’s not like I don’t have enough on my mind without having to deal with her outbursts.”

  It’s not until Dad and Andrea get home and we’re all sitting down to dinner — Kraft Dinner and wieners, one of the three things Barb has mastered for when it’s her turn to cook — that I find out what was upsetting Lynne.

  “So, Lynne,” Dad asks, swiping a hunk of wiener through a blob of ketchup and holding it up in midair, “how was the great shoe hunt today? You and Le
xie do much damage to my Visa?”

  Oh, yeah. Dad had given me his credit card and I was supposed to meet Lynne at the mall. I wonder how I could have forgotten that. She’d been so excited about getting new shoes to go with her dress for the year-end formal. It’s all she’s talked about for weeks.

  I turn to tell her I’m sorry, but her expression stops me cold.

  “Lexie didn’t show up.” Lynne’s words are clipped and hostile and perfectly matched to the look she’s giving me. “And since she had the credit card, I couldn’t go, even though An-mei said she’d go with me.”

  “What happened, Lex?” Dad’s eyebrow is raised as he looks over at me.

  “I forgot, okay?” I pull the Visa card out of my back pocket and hold it out to him, but he doesn’t reach for it.

  Instead, he rubs his forehead with his fingertips, pushing the skin into folds. I’m expecting a lecture any second, but it’s Andrea who speaks up.

  “Can you go with Lynne tomorrow?”

  “I guess,” I shrug.

  “I’d take her myself, but I have to go in to work,” Andrea says. I’m amazed that she doesn’t mention something about her big assistant manager position and all the responsibility she has. It’s just a stupid job in a women’s clothing store, but you’d think she was running the space program the way she goes on about it.

  “Maybe I’d like to make my own plans sometimes,” I say, “instead of always getting stuck looking after Lynne.”

  “See how she treats me?” Lynne whines.

  “There’s no need for you to use that tone with Andrea. And I really don’t think it’s asking too much of you to help out now and then,” Dad says. I can see he’s on the verge of blowing his stack.

  “What’s the big deal? I said I’d do it.” I push back from the table and walk away. Halfway to my room I change my mind and head for the front door. I grab my bag and ease the door open quietly.

  “I’ll be back in a while,” I yell. I dash out the driveway and go left under cover of the Pitlanskys’ fence. The corner is only a couple of houses away, and as long as I can make it there before anyone catches me, I’m pretty much home free.

  I can hear Dad calling my name just seconds after I turn onto 41st. His tone tells me he’s not coming after me, so I slow my pace and try to get my breath. I’d forgotten, in the cool inside the house, how sweltering it is, and my face and neck are already covered by a sheen of sweat.

  I flip open my phone and press the button to dial Oscar. He answers on the second ring, his voice muffled. I can tell he’s eating.

  “I’m coming over, okay?”

  “Sure.” He sounds really glad.

  I tell myself that I am, too.

  Chapter Five

  I feel better. A lot better. Oscar has his arm across my shoulder, his hand curled around my arm. He squeezes me closer to him every now and then, and smiles, and leans in to press his nose against my cheek or smell my hair. I can feel his happiness and it’s spreading itself over me.

  Vaughn’s on-again-off-again girlfriend, Niki Chan, is there, too. Looks like they’re on at the moment, which suits me fine. Not that I’m exactly friends with Niki. I know her from chemistry class in a casual, “hi-how-are-you” kind of way, but that’s about it. Her family has money, which is actually the cause of most of the problems between her and Vaughn. He insists on paying his own way and she says there’s no reason she should have to miss out on things she wants to do because of his pride — especially when she can easily afford to pay for both of them. It pretty much goes around in circles from there. But that’s none of my business, and, in any case, I really don’t care.

  Vaughn and Niki are playing the latest Metroid game on Wii. She’s bouncing and whooping while Vaughn makes do with assorted grunts and yelps. I’ve never been any good at these things — I panic and get jammed up.

  Devlin loved the Halo games and used to coax me to play until I gave in a few times and he saw just how bad I really was.

  It hits me suddenly that Devlin had been playing Xbox when Dad dropped me off at his place that night.

  * * *

  “I won’t be too much longer,” he’d told me. I’d dropped into the couch and picked up a magazine from the coffee table, flipping through it while he played, trying to hide my impatience.

  It hadn’t taken long for boredom to become annoyance. I made this known to Devlin in an escalating series of sighs and mutterings until he could no longer ignore me.

  “You should try playing one more time.”

  “No. I hate those stupid games.”

  “C’mon Lex, just give it another shot. You’ll love it once you get into it.”

  “No.”

  * * *

  It echoed in my head now.

  “No.” Arms crossed. Anger stamped on my face. “I want to go somewhere for a change. We never do anything.”

  I wonder how I’d forgotten that detail. In all the times I’ve gone over it in my mind, not once had that hit me before now. What if I’d said “yes”? What if I’d picked up the controller he’d been holding out to me, and just played for a while?

  Then we probably wouldn’t have gone out that night, and run into Melissa Babineau and Cayla Forbes on their way to Jayden Dolan’s place.

  “You two should, like, totally come, too,” Cayla had urged. “This is, like, the party of the year. Seriously.”

  I’d never been to Jayden’s place before, but I’d heard about the parties. Who hadn’t? His folks were always going on business trips or holiday weekends, leaving Jayden with an older brother who couldn’t have cared less what Jayden did. From what I’d heard, he’d throw a big party and then call a service to clean up the next day.

  Devlin wasn’t exactly keen to go, but it hadn’t taken much persuading. It was easy for me to talk Devlin into just about anything. He always wanted to please me.

  “You never want to do anything fun!”

  I feel sick, remembering the way I’d whined and pouted until he gave in — just like I knew he would.

  Sounds and images tumble through my brain. They’ve been there before, the blurred colours and muted lights, crowded rooms and pulsing music.

  It creeps forward, playing at its own speed.

  * * *

  Flushed faces and rowdy chanting. Jell-O shooters and clapping. Whoops and cheers and laughter. The cool, sweet taste of strawberry sliding down my throat.

  Someone barfed bright red all over a cream-coloured carpet. It cleared the room, but no one seemed worried about it other than not stepping in it. I don’t know why, but I felt oddly responsible, like I should do something about it. It was around this time that things started to spin and stretch. Still, I clung to the idea like it was a special mission.

  It took a while to find Jayden — partly because the house is enormous and partly because things were getting pretty bleary. I kept asking kids I knew if they’d seen him, but most of them just stared at me. You’d have thought they had no idea who Jayden even was.

  When I finally located him I found myself mumbling something confused about cleaning the spot on the carpet. It took a few minutes before he understood. Then he laughed.

  “This is a party,” Jayden said. “Who cares about a carpet? Just chill.”

  Then he was looking over my shoulder, at Devlin. “She always this uptight, man?”

  “I’m not uptight!” I insisted, before Devlin could say anything. Not that it looked like he was about to. If anything, he was more wasted than I was.

  “Oh, I think you are.” Jayden smirked. “But you can prove me wrong if you want. If you’re not too uptight, that is.”

  Accomplice

  -

  -

  Chapter Six

  You could never call Ly
nne a grudge-holder. By the next day she’s dancing around the house with her arms around an imaginary partner, just as happy as can be.

  “Do you think it’s hard to dance in stilettos?” she asks, pausing in mid-twirl.

  “Never tried it,” I say, “but why take a chance? Besides, Dad would lose it if you came home with stilettos.”

  “’Cause I’m still his baby,” she giggles. “So, what time do you want to go shopping?”

  “Soon. I’m going to see if Dori can come, too,” I tell her. I know there’ll be no objection. Dori has more fashion sense than anyone I’ve ever known. I swear, she could put together a hot look with string and Kleenex if she had to.

  Lynne continues dancing about while I dial Dori’s place. Her mom tells me she’s over at A.J. Ryan’s house.

  “Dori’s at her boyfriend’s place,” I say, hanging up. Lynne looks so disappointed that I call his house.

  “I’m looking for the famous fashion consultant, Dori Tocher,” I tell A.J. once he comes to the phone. “Have you seen her, by any chance?”

  “That depends,” he says. “Are you trying to lure her away from me?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And is there a mall involved in this plan?”

  “Maybe more than one.”

  “It’s not looking so good for me then, is it?” he says with a groan, but he’s kind of laughing, too. He’s pretty awesome — I can see why Dori’s so nuts about him.

  “You can come along if you want,” I offer.

  “No, that’s okay,” he says quickly. “Uh, here’s Dori.”

  “Shoes,” I tell her. “For Lynne’s dance.”

  “Where will I meet you?” she asks without missing a beat. Poor A.J.

  Forty minutes later we’re browsing at Shuzy Shoos, a new shoe store that carries “alternative styles,” whatever that’s supposed to mean. It’s not like other shoe stores only have one style, but whatever. Lots of slogans are dumb when you think about them. I wasn’t in love with the store name, either. Really, isn’t it enough to spell “shoe” wrong once?