by Daphne Greer
I can’t stand listening anymore. I head to my room.
“Max? Are you still awake?” Mom whispers from the doorway later that night. I don’t answer. She comes in and sits on my bed. I keep perfectly still. “I’m so sorry, Max…” She sounds tired. I can tell she’s been crying. “I know I need”—she takes a deep breath— “some help. And I’m going to get it. Somehow.” She sniffs. “I promise.”
I hold my breath until she leaves. I’m wide awake now. My brain is whirling.
This is all my fault. I have to make things right, but how?
And then it hits me. I know what to do.
I slip downstairs once I hear her in the tub. I open the fridge and search for the cheese-slice package, but it’s not there.
Then I remember throwing the wrapper out after making Duncan’s sandwich. I root through the garbage and find it. I stare at the Kids Help Phone ad before taking it with me upstairs. My mind whirls as I pace around my room.
What do I say?
I rehearse a few lines in my head, but nothing sounds right. I crawl into bed with my phone and pull the covers over my head. Sometimes I think better in the dark. I lie there for a few minutes before I reach under my bed for my flashlight. After pulling out some socks and hockey magazines, I find it.
I yank the blankets back over my head and shine the light on the number and dial. On the third ring, someone answers, “Kids Help Phone. How can I help you?”
I freeze.
“Hello? Anyone there?” the friendly voice asks. “It’s okay if you’re nervous. Take your time.”
Panicked, I hang up.
I sit under the covers staring at the phone.
This is crazy.
I don’t know what to tell them. They never show you that on their tv ads. I fiddle with the wrapper, thinking. Then I hear someone in the hallway. I turn off my flashlight and lay under the covers like I’m asleep.
In the middle of the night, I bolt awake. In my dream I had left Duncan alone, and he died. I tiptoe into his room. He’s under the covers, snoring loudly. I peek into Mom’s room. She’s sound asleep too.
Relieved, I crawl back into bed. I’m now wide awake for the second time. The cheese wrapper crinkles in my bed. I decide I’m going to call. Taking a deep breath, I dial the number.
A friendly voice answers after the first ring.
“Kids Help Phone, Norene speaking. How can I help you?”
I bite my lip.
“Hello?”
“I’m here,” I answer quietly.
“I thought I heard someone thinking on the other end of the line. What’s up?”
Before I realize it, everything pours out of me. I tell her about the fire, Dad, Mom, Duncan.
Everything.
I even tell her about Cody. When I’m done, I feel a big weight lift off my shoulders.
“You’ve had quite a time, Max. I’m glad you called.”
I sit up in my bed, hugging my knees as we talk. Everything she says makes sense—even the bit about Cody and how his meanness isn’t about me or Duncan. It’s about how he feels inside. And how change is hard, but that once you accept things it does get easier.
“Now, this information is for your mom. I think it might be helpful…”
I grab a pen and paper. I have to get it right.
“And, Max, if you need any more help, just call back. Someone will always be on the other end of this phone line, no matter what time it is.”
I glance at the clock. It’s 3:30 am.
Chapter Fifteen
The sun streams into my room, making it hard to sleep. I yank the blankets over my head and lie there for a few minutes. I can hear Saturday-morning cartoons coming from Duncan’s tv. He’s got it turned up way too loud.
I glance at my clock. It’s 8:00.
“Yes!” I whip off the blankets and jump out of bed. Mom’s already in the shower when I knock on her door. Normally she’d be dead to the world. I guess she really did mean what she said last night.
I bang on the bathroom door. “Mom! Mom!”
“What’s wrong?” she yells. “Is everything all right?”
“I’ve got tell you something! It’s super important.”
“Okay, okay…just give me a minute.”
I plop down on her bed and wait.
“Okay, now what’s so important?” she asks, coming out of the bathroom.
I begin to tell her, but I’m talking way too fast.
“Hey, hey, slow down,” she says. “You called who?”
“The Kids Help Phone.”
“Why would you call there?” She sits down beside me.
“Well, um, I wanted help. Here, I wrote it all down.” I pass her the paper with all the information. “You’re not going to believe it, Mom.”
“What exactly did you tell this person?”
“A bunch of stuff.”
“Like what, Max?”
I shrug my shoulders. “About the fire, and how everything has changed now that Dad’s gone and…”
She stares at the note and then looks away.
“What’s the matter, Mom? I thought you’d be happy.”
“I can’t believe you did this,” she says, shaking her head.
I bite my lip. “I’m sorry, Mom. I was only trying to help.” I glance down at my feet. It’s not going right. Why isn’t she happy? A lump lodges in my throat. “I’m really sorry about the kitchen and not staying with Duncan. I shouldn’t have—”
She squeezes my hand. “The kitchen can be repaired, Max. I’m just thankful nothing more serious happened. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you boys.” Her voice trails off. “You’re all I have.” She wipes her eyes. “You know, Mr. Cooper reminded me of something Daddy would have said.”
“Like what?”
“Well, that we all make mistakes and do things we’re not proud of. But if we learn from them, they’re sort of a blessing.”
She takes a deep breath. “Ever since Daddy died, I’ve been struggling to get through each day. I’m sorry things have been so tough for you.” She pauses. “It’s time I get back into the driver’s seat. I’ve been in the backseat for far too long.”
“I just want to play hockey,” I say quietly. “It’s the one thing that reminds me of Dad. It’s weird, but when I skate, it’s like he’s right there with me.”
Mom wraps her arms around me. “Let’s take it one day at a time, and we’ll see what we come up with.” She kisses me on the top of my head and says, “Dad would be so proud of you.”
“I miss him,” I whisper.
“I do too.”
We sit there for a few minutes not saying anything.
“You know, Max, you’re just like him.”
“I am?” I can feel myself grinning.
Mom smiles. “That you are.”
“So, are you going to call?”
She looks at the note. “Of course I am. Why don’t you let me get dressed and give me a minute to let this all sink in.” She stares at the note. “I still can’t believe you did this—for us.”
Chapter Sixteen
The Family Hope Center is even better than the Kids Help Phone woman had described. Duncan has a bunch of new friends, but the best thing is, he gets his own support worker. She’ll be with him after school until Mom gets home.
“It’s taking a long time,” Duncan says while we’re waiting for the worker to arrive for the first time.
“Hey, I think she’s here!” I yell.
Duncan stops pacing and joins me in front of the window.
Mom turns off the kettle and slips in between us. We stand together like sardines stuffed in a tin can, watching her get out of a little yellow Volkswagen.
“I like her,” Duncan says.
“Her name is Alison,” Mom says.
“My Lady Alison,” Duncan corrects her.
Mom and I laugh.
“So where are we going?” I ask Mom later on that night.
“You’ll see,�
�� she says, pulling out of the driveway and heading up the hill toward the school. I have no clue what she’s up to. She parks at the entrance to the path into the woods and turns off the car.
“It’s dark out,” Duncan announces.
“There’s actually a full moon,” Mom says. Then she looks at me.
“Are we really doing what I think we’re doing?” I ask.
“Last one on the pond is a rotten egg.”
“For real?”
She nods.
“But, you—”
“I don’t like rotten eggs,” Duncan butts in.
“Don’t worry,” Mom says, turning to face Duncan. “I brought you hot chocolate.”
“Good,” he says in his deep voice.
Everything glows in the moonlight. The sky looks lit up. The trees rustle slightly in the breeze. Our boots crunch over the crisp snow. Even Duncan seems caught up in the magic of the night. He doesn’t say a word. I still can’t believe we’re doing this with Mom.
“Oh my goodness, it’s beautiful,” she says, breaking the silence. “No wonder you and Dad came here at night.”
“I like hot chocolate,” Duncan says.
“You’re always moving us along, aren’t you, Duncan.” Mom sits on the bench next to me while I tie up my skates. She pulls out the thermos and pours Duncan a cup of hot chocolate.
“I wish Dad was here,” I say quietly. “It doesn’t feel right being here at night without him.”
Mom puts her arm around me and rests her head on my shoulder. We sit there not saying anything. Shadows dance on the ice when clouds pass over the moon. In a quiet voice, she finally says, “Can I fill in for him?”
“But you don’t have skates.”
“I can use these.” She pulls out a pair of black skates.
Dad’s skates. I feel a pang in my chest.
“I know I have big skates to fill,” she says. “But with a couple of pairs of hockey socks and a little help from you and Duncan, hopefully I won’t break my neck.” She squeezes my hand. “And when you’re bigger, you can have them.”
I’m glad it’s dark so Mom can’t see my tears. “Thanks,” I croak. “I’d like that.”
It isn’t until I step onto the ice that I notice real hockey nets on the pond. “Hey, look at the nets!” I squeal. “I wonder where they came from?” I turn toward Mom.
She grins from ear to ear. “Me,” she says quietly.
“They’re great! Wait until Ian sees them!” I whack the puck toward the net but miss.
“I’ll get it,” Duncan says, leaping up from the bench, spilling hot chocolate everywhere.
“I might need a hand,” Mom says, hobbling toward the edge of the pond.
She looks like a little kid learning how to walk as she tries to skate. Dad’s skates are way too big for her. I skate over to help her. “I think you might need to get your own pair, Mom.”
“I think you’re right. I can hardly stand up in these things.”
Mom holds on to me tightly. We both start to laugh.
“Mom!” Duncan yells.
“What?” she says and then giggles as she tries to take another glide.
“You’re laughing.”
Author Notes
Asking for help is a sign of true strength.
In Canada, Kids Help Phone is a free professional service for anyone aged twenty years and younger. You can call anytime of day or night, 365 days a year, about anything, from trouble with your homework to dealing with the loss of a loved one, from feelings of depression to thoughts of suicide. You don’t have to tell them who you are, and your information is safe. In other words, your call is anonymous and confidential. The number is 1-800-668-6868.
If talking to someone is a bit intimidating right now, you could log on to the Kids Help Phone website and get help from professional counselors, online. Reading what other kids are talking about can also make you feel less alone. Check it out. It’s pretty neat. All you need to do is type in the words Kids Help Phone or www.kidshelpphone.ca.
If you live in the United States, there are similar services, such as Boys Town (1-800-448-3000, www.boystown.org) or Nineline (1-800-999-9999, www.nine-line.org). You can also talk to a teacher or guidance counselor at your school.
Many years ago, I volunteered on the Adult Help Phone in Nova Scotia. I’m very thankful to my friend Nancy Allen, who encouraged me to do it with her. Being a friendly voice on the other end of the phone was a very rewarding experience. Someone—somewhere— is waiting to be that friendly voice for you.
Acknowledgments
I have many people to thank.
Deep gratitude goes to my writing group: Jo Ann Yhard, Lisa Harrington, Graham Bullock, Jennifer Thorne and Joanna Butler. The friendship, insight and trust we share is more than I could hope for—truly a writer’s dream. A big thank-you also goes to Norene Smiley for putting us all together and setting us on our writing paths.
I’m very grateful to Melanie Jeffs for her keen editorial eye and for guiding me in such a way that allowed my creative juices to unfold to make the story richer. I will be forever grateful to Orca Book Publishers for believing in my story.
To Donna Hansplant (former Vice-President of the Kids Help Phone) for taking the time to read my manuscript and for giving it a thumbs-up!
Thanks to Cynthia d’Entremont, who effortlessly comes up with smashing book titles. Maxed Out suits this story perfectly.
To my dear friends, who have cheered me along the way.
To my parents, who taught me to find the good in every situation. This helped me immensely when trying to find something positive from rejection letters—which I did. Each one pushed me to get things right.
To my cousin Alison for her sense of fun, seeing love in all things and for bringing Michael into the world.
And finally to my husband Ken, my rock—who has always believed in me. To my children, Emma, Maude, Rose and Grace—may you always believe in yourselves and know that the sky is the limit if you follow your dreams.
Daphne Greer worked with individuals with special needs for sixteen years. Maxed Out is her first novel. Daphne lives in Newport, Nova Scotia.
For more information on all the books in the Orca Currents series, please visit
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