Second half was more of the same: 26–5, 33–7, 40–8. It was as easy as practicing with Freddie. I ran like a racehorse, leaped like a flea. Mike fed me the ball every chance he got.
Team 6D was having a great time. This was our first win, and it was against the best team. With the score 48–8, and only a few seconds left in the game, I took a pass from Dupont, fed the ball to Mike, pointed down court. He threw the alley-oop. My leap was so strong that I ended up with the basket at my waist. I slammed the ball down and hung onto the top of the backboard for a moment.
The ten players were spread around the basket, looking up at me. By now most of the lunch crowd was gathered around the basketball court. They stared too. Kids, I thought. We were all kids. A playground full of hope. So why did I feel like crying? Geez, get a grip, I told myself.
I found myself looking for Lisa Wu. Couldn’t spot her.
I’d been thinking of my exit strategy. This was the time. I dropped to the pavement and staggered, favoring my ankle. I took a step and fell to the ground. The crowd was still cheering my dunk. Miss Stapleton blew her whistle to end the game. My team crowded round, helped me up. I slapped hands, told Mike my ankle was fine, just a little sprain, and hopped to the bathroom, where Freddie was waiting. We changed fast.
“Left ankle?” he said from his stall.
“Uh-huh.”
“I guess it’s never really going to heal,” he said. “This game was my swan song. Pretty amazing, though. You should have seen yourself. I thought Stapleton’s eyes were going to pop out of her head a couple of times. Do you feel better, getting it all out of your system?”
“Not really. I’m…I’m sorry, Freddie. Lance must hate you now.”
“Hey!” he said. “Hey, it’s us. Okay? We’re on the same side. Don’t worry about Lance. I never liked him, anyway.”
“Okay then.”
He smiled. “You say that too—Okay then. Cool.”
He turned to go.
“Oh, one last thing, Freddie.”
He turned back. Hand on the bathroom door.
“Remember the old lady the dragon carried away, down by the lake?”
“I remember the dragon,” he said.
“There was a lady too. You said it must be her time. And you said the same thing in High Park when you saw that lame dragon. ‘I guess it’s my time,’ you said. Remember that?”
“Okay.”
“What did you mean?”
Freddie never frowned, and he didn’t now. But he looked a little put out.
“Nothing lasts forever,” he said. “You know that as well as anyone. That’s why you’re here.”
“Yeah, but—”
“I gotta go. See you soon, eh?”
I left the bathroom a moment later, hood up. No one noticed me. They were all clustered around Freddie, slapping him on the back, asking him about his ankle. He was shrugging, saying he’d have to wait and see.
Velma pushed through the crowd. “What’s going on?” she said. “Why are you limping, Freddie? Did I miss anything?”
“Not a thing,” said Freddie.
Purvis laughed and laughed. “You are soooo funny!” he said.
Velma frowned.
Mom and I went for a walk after dinner. She asked if I’d learned anything from my three-day suspension. I said yes, hoping she wouldn’t ask what, because I couldn’t of a single thing I’d learned. I felt different, though. Excited and scared at the same time, the way you do before a big storm. Something loomed inside of me. Clouds were piling up on the horizon of my mind.
“I want to make sure that you’re okay with me going away,” she said. “You were doing well there, a couple of weeks ago. And then this thing happened with the author.”
We were on Roncesvalles. The streetlights came on, but there was still light in the sky. A white car heading north and a gray van heading south made U-turns at the same time, a four-lane ballet. Traffic both ways waited politely for it to finish.
“I had a long talk with Dr. Nussbaum. He says you have work to do but you are on the way. That’s what he said. On the way. Do you think you’re on the way, Fred?”
We passed a barbershop. There was a dog tied to the parking meter outside. A nice guy with an alert head. He looked me up and down and wagged his tail.
“I don’t have to go to Montreal,” she said. “You matter much more to me than work does. Do you want me to stay home?”
“No,” I said.
“You’re sure? You’ll be okay with Izzy and the babysitter?”
“I’m sure.”
“You can always call me, you know. I’ll have my phone on. I can be back in hours. I love you, Fred.”
“Uh,” I said.
She put her arm on my shoulder and shook me. Like she was trying to be jolly. I stared at some sausages in a shop window.
My first day back after my suspension, and Purvis Stackpole was scared of me. When I said hi, he backed away.
“Are you still angry, Fred?”
“About what?”
“Anything.”
I shook my head.
“No tackling.” He took another step back. “I don’t like tackling.”
“I’m not going to,” I said.
“You tackled the author.”
“That was a mistake. Because of my dog.”
“I don’t like tackling,” he said again.
Mike was playing basketball with Olga and Paulie. I hung around for a bit, but they didn’t ask me to play with them. One time the ball came loose and bounced toward me. I picked it up and made to pass it back to Mike.
He flinched.
“Careful!” he said.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He threw the ball to Paulie.
Sheesh.
You might think it’d be cool to have people scared of you, but it isn’t.
What a relief to talk to Lisa. She came right up to me and started in about the project. Was I ready? I was. Did I have my written work? I did. And Kleenex? That too. She had already been to the classroom to see Miss Pullteeth. The Bunsen burner was there, and the beaker and the other stuff. Was I sure I had enough Kleenex for everyone? I was. Her words came tumbling out of her mouth so fast that she tripped on them. Her head bobbed up and down as she talked. She wore shoes with pom-poms on them. She made me smile.
—
There was the usual milling around the classroom before the announcements. Velma had done something new to her hair. It was shorter and kind of sharper looking. She was the prettiest girl I knew. My heart pounded in my chest when I went up to say hello to her. She told me that I was a creep and a loser, and to stay away from her. I went to my chair. It was a few seconds before I could breathe properly.
She sat a couple of rows away from me now. Lisa slid into Velma’s old seat, next to me.
“Hi, neighbor!” she said.
Miss Pullteeth came over to welcome me back to class and to make sure I understood about the water cycle project. I nodded.
“Way to go! So you two are ready to present this morning?”
“Oh yes!” said Lisa. “We have a great show planned. Lots of class participation. Don’t worry about us, Miss P. In fact, we want to go first, don’t we, Fred?”
I opened my mouth and closed it without saying anything.
“See? We’re ready! Let me unroll my poster and set it up at the front of the class, and we are good to go. We have lots to say about the water cycle. And if anyone interrupts, Fred will tackle them and make them stop.”
Miss Pullteeth frowned.
“Kidding! Just kidding! Fred doesn’t want to hurt anyone. Do you, Fred? He’s feeling better. So seriously, Miss P., should we go to the front of the class now? Huh? I think so. Let’s get this caravan rolling!”
—
The bell rang, and we stood for the national anthem. There were announcements about a bake sale fund-raiser, a birthday and today’s intramural basketball game, 8B versus 8C.
“Have
a great day, John A.” This was our principal’s regular sign-off. Have I talked about our school name? There must be a thousand John A. Macdonalds out there. John A. and Terry Fox are probably the best-known Canadians—them and Saint Mary.
Miss Pullteeth stood at the front of the class with her hands clasped in front of her. She was in some kind of overall today, with a scarf around her neck and a what-do-you-call-it—a brooch, holding it in place. The brooch was silver and in the shape of an atom. For science, I guessed. Miss Pullteeth often dressed on a theme. The day Ralph Brody was here she wore a man’s tie with books on it.
“And now it’s time to look at our science projects. I know you have all been working hard on them. I would like you to put your hands together to welcome our first presenters—Lisa Wu and Fred Berdit!”
Mom’s suitcase sat in the front hall. The taxi was waiting on the street outside. Mom was in the kitchen, going over things with Elvira, the babysitter. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, homework, bedtime. House key. Phone numbers. Envelope full of emergency cash.
“It’s okay, Mrs. Berdit,” said Elvira. “I can always call home if I run into trouble.”
Then it was time for the good-bye kiss. “I’m counting on you,” she said to Izzy, and, “Remember what I told you,” she said to me, and, “I’ll be back the day after tomorrow,” she said to the babysitter. We watched through the front window as the taxi drove off. And then we were alone.
Elvira headed for the kitchen. She was wearing a light-colored skirt that made a swooshing noise when she walked.
I stared after her. I’d been staring at her since she showed up at the door. Mom had told us beforehand that the babysitter’s name was Elvira, she went to St. Joseph High School up on Dundas West, and she had been recommended by the people who ran the YMCA babysitting course. I hadn’t thought any more about her until I saw her in our front hall and recognized her frost-white hair and sideways-pointed nose.
She knew who I was too. I could tell when she winked at me. But she didn’t say anything until after she’d cleared away the dinner plates and put out the dessert. Ice cream.
“So Fred, did you do it?” she said, sitting back in her chair and pushing her hair away from her face.
“Do what?”
“You know what I’m talking about. Did you get your hockey stick and lift up the sewer grating?”
I nodded.
“And…”
“And what?”
She ducked her head, gesturing down.
I nodded again.
“Ha! Good for you.”
I had another spoonful of butter pecan ice cream. Mom buys lame, old-fashioned flavors, but even the worst ice cream I ever had was pretty good.
“What are you guys talking about?” said Izzy. “Hockey stick? What about a hockey stick?”
“You didn’t tell your sister, Fred? Why not? Too big a secret?”
“What is going on?”
I shrugged. “I lost my tennis ball down the sewer in Sorauren Park a couple of weeks ago, and Elvira told me how to get it out.”
“Tennis ball? You mean that ratty old thing of Casey’s? You lost your ball and Elvira helped you find it?”
Izzy sucked ice cream off her spoon. That’s how she does it, takes a big spoonful and then sucks it off a bit at a time.
“Why’s that a secret?” she asked.
I felt this pressure building up inside. I let out a deep breath and looked out the window. Our house is real close to the one next door. Looking out the kitchen window, all you see is brick. You have to twist your neck and look almost straight up to see the sky. I thought about the way Elvira knew about the sewer grating. The way she smiled at me. I figured something out about her that I should have seen earlier. Sometimes I am not as smart as all that. I put down my spoon.
“You’ve been there too,” I said. “Upside-down world.”
She nodded.
“I said I’d been down there when I saw you that first time, Fred.”
“I thought you were just talking about going down the sewer.”
—
Of course the place wouldn’t exist just for me. Course not. I should have known. I felt relieved. I wasn’t the only weirdo.
“How did you get there?” I asked her. “How did you find out about the sewer?”
Elvira’s nose twitched when she smiled.
“I’m not from the city,” she said. “I grew up in the country near Barrie, a farmhouse with a barn and a horse for me. When I was fourteen, my dad changed jobs, and we had to move to Toronto. New house, new school. I was miserable. I missed the old place so much. Mostly I missed Pushkin. Riding him, grooming him, being with him. The way he nuzzled me. The way he smelled. You know?”
I nodded. I knew.
“A guy at my new school liked to climb down inside sewer drains. He convinced me and a few others to try it. Jerry’s dad was a city surveyor, and he had all sorts of old maps. Did you know the storm sewers in Toronto are linked? You can walk for blocks and blocks underground. Anyway, I started to explore on my own, and I found the drain at the bottom of Sorauren Park. I got the grate off with a hockey stick and climbed down, only I slipped and dropped my flashlight. Next thing I knew I was falling—like, forever. It was like a dream, except I was pretty sure I was awake. I landed, but not at the bottom of the sewer. I was in a hole next to an old wooden ladder and I felt sick to my stomach. Crazy, right? Anyway, I was too sick to care. I climbed the ladder and found that I was at the farm next door to our old one.”
“Wait!” I said. “What farm? Weren’t you at Sorauren Park? That’s where I landed. Same place I started, only upside down.”
She shook her head.
“Not me. I was at my neighbors’ place, where they were digging a well. The Mertons were always having trouble with their water. First thing I saw when I got out of the hole was my old barn. I practically flew across a soybean field. It was dark in the barn, but I had the flashlight in my hand, to find the light switch. When I turned on the barn lights, Pushkin whinnied. And my head cleared right away. I knew what was going on. I was home. I was where I wanted to be.”
I thought about all this.
“Was it the flashlight that pulled you?”
“I think so. It was the one we used to keep in the barn. We hung it on a hook by the door, because the barn was dark and we couldn’t ever find the switch. I kept the flashlight when we moved.”
“So your flashlight was like my tennis ball. I get that.”
I didn’t understand how the sewer drain could lead to two places, though.
Izzy’s mouth hung open, and her eyes were squinched. She pushed her hair around the side of her head. Copying Elvira, who had a habit of doing that.
“What,” she said, “what are you, what…I…what…”
She couldn’t get it out. Her spoon was dripping ice cream onto the table. She dropped it into the bowl. Her mouth was clamped shut.
Elvira and I looked at each other. I was still getting used to the idea that someone else had been there. Someone else knew about the place that was upside down from ours.
I shrugged, as if to say, You do it.
“There’s another world down there, Izzy,” said Elvira. “At the bottom of the sewer in Sorauren Park. Just like this one, only upside down. The sewer is a portal between the two worlds.”
“Only you need to carry something with you,” I said. “Elvira’s flashlight from the barn. The ball that Casey used to play with.”
“And when you get there,” said Elvira, “you find something missing from up here. Something you love, that you’ve lost. Fred found his dog. I found my horse.”
Her face softened as she went back in her mind.
“When I saw Pushkin and realized where I was, everything turned right side up and I had the loveliest time! I saddled him up and rode around all afternoon, down all the trails we used to go. I had just the best ride ever. I cried my eyes out.”
“Because you were happy.”
I knew what she meant.
Izzy didn’t believe it. Not any part of it. Not the upside-down part or the sewer portal or the things that were there that were not here. It didn’t make sense, she said. None at all. It was stupid. A fantasy. A dream.
But she kept asking questions.
“And the house there looks just like this one, Fred? Kitchen, hallway, living room, bedrooms upstairs?”
She looked around wildly.
“Just like this,” I told her.
“Except that he’s alive there.”
“Except that, yeah. Casey’s alive”
She blinked, turned to Elvira. “And you say the same thing? Your farm was the same and your horse was there?”
“Yeah.”
“Crap!” said Izzy. “That is total crap. You’re both lying.”
Elvira went to the living room and looked out.
“It’s a beautiful evening,” she said. “Let’s go for a walk.”
So we went outside and walked down our narrow crowded street past the parked cars and the porches with old people sitting. The sun was down, but it wasn’t dark yet. Birds flitted around. Or maybe they were bats. The cars that drove past had their lights on. Someone was barbecuing.
“So the world down there is full of the stuff we’re missing?” said Izzy. “Stuff we lost? Do you know how stupid that sounds?”
“All I know is Pushkin was there,” said Elvira. “And Fred’s dog.”
“And what’s that about the tennis ball?”
“I think that’s how you get there. You keep something that’s part of what you are missing—like Fred’s ball belonged to his dog—and the thing pulls you to the other world. Casey’s tennis ball drew Fred. My flashlight came from the barn.”
Huh, I thought. Maybe that was how come the portal could lead to more than one place in the upside-down world. The tennis ball drew me toward Casey. The flashlight drew Elvira to her horse.
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