Shades of Red

by K. C. Dyer

  She shrugged. “It’s pretty much the same as my old one. Just bigger, because I’ve grown again, and this one is better for running. It’s made of titanium so it’s lighter and supposed to have really good cushioning. Still hurts a bit when I run up the stairs, though.”

  Frank sat down on the bed beside Darrell and gently placed the leg in her hands.

  “I think you just need some time to get used to it. And maybe you gotta quit taking the stairs three at a time.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Baby girl, I hate that you have to wear that thing with all my heart,” he said softly. “But sometimes I think you forget how lucky you are to have so many people working to help you to walk and run and swim.”

  He stared at her for a long, quiet moment.

  “And ski,” Darrell added ruefully, at last. She rubbed a crease in her forehead and met her uncle’s eyes. “I have a special leg for skiing, too.”

  Frank reached an arm around her. “That’s my girl,” he said. “I knew you couldn’t stay mad at me for long.”

  He slipped a book onto Darrell’s lap. “Look. I brought you something for your birthday.”

  Darrell took the book but didn’t glance at it. “You know I’m not mad at you, Uncle Frank. I just can’t believe Mom is bringing this guy over to our house. I mean, it’s stupid to have a boyfriend when you’re her age. And what does she need anyone else for, anyway? She’s got me to keep her company.”

  Frank laughed. “Well, don’t forget, this guy’s got to pass muster with me, too. If I think he’s a jerk, it’s out the door on his butt, okay?” He got to his feet.

  Darrell managed a little smile. “Okay.”

  “You need help to get that thing on?”

  She shook her head. “No. I can manage. Thanks for the book, Uncle Frank. I’ll be down in a minute.”

  As the door closed behind her uncle, the prosthesis shifted in her hand and knocked his book to the floor. Darrell slowly slipped on her new leg and tugged her jeans back into place before reaching down to pick up the paperback.

  A hooded figure dominated the vermilion cover, one hand raised as if in plea or supplication. “W. Goldman,” she read aloud. “Escape from Spain.” Ignoring the burning ache that settled into her leg as she stood up, Darrell clutched the book like a life raft and headed for the stairs.

  Darrell lay disconsolately on the couch, fiddling with a piece of tinsel that had wrapped itself around her ankle earlier in the day. She was heading back to school this afternoon. Eagle Glen Alternative School. The best school she’d ever known — and the strangest. But all the things that made it special brought back terrible memories of her last days and the loss of Conrad. And life at home was no better.

  Dinner last night had been a disaster. But when she’d dragged herself downstairs this morning, her mother had acted like nothing had happened. Darrell had ended up helping take down the tree, and the effort had sapped all her remaining energy. She collapsed on the couch, overcome by the lethargy that had dogged her the entire holiday season. Delaney dozed in a tight ball on the rug near the couch, snoring gently and making her feel sleepier than ever. Her new book sat on the table beside the couch, unread. It seemed too much like work to open the cover.

  “Darrell!” Dr. Connor’s disembodied voice floated down the stairs. “Time to get changed, okay? We’ve got to start for school in less than an hour.”

  School.

  Darrell wrapped the tinsel around her finger and reached for the television remote. “I’ve set out my clothes, Mom!” she called. “I’ll be up in a few minutes — just want to finish my show.”

  She flipped on the television. A news station showed footage of casualties in the latest skirmish in the Middle East. Darrell stared at the screen but couldn’t determine where the mangled bodies were from. Were they rebels? Terrorists? Civilians? And how could anyone tell the difference? The flat snap of gunfire from somewhere behind the reporter onscreen startled Delaney awake, and he looked around blearily before settling down to sleep again.

  Darrell gave up trying to figure out who was killing whom and changed channels. She stared at the flickering images through half-closed eyes. Scenes of war shifted into an arsenal of advertising. Ads for cars. Ads for diapers. Ads for beer. Darrell flicked through all the channels. Plenty of ads and not much else to see on Sunday morning television when a person’s mother won’t pay for cable.

  The remote slid out of her hands as Darrell stared dully at the screen. The picture settled on a group of women in matching choral robes swaying stiffly from side to side.

  “Probably an ad for some church,” she muttered. Still, it saved her from thinking about her mother or school.

  The music ended, and a man with a high blonde pompadour stepped onto the screen. He embraced each of the robed women in turn.

  Darrell strained to reach the remote, but it lay on the floor just beyond her fingertips. The effort of stretching out her arm was too much, and she slumped deeper into the couch. The blonde man twirled to face the camera, his widely spaced eyes exuding sincerity. His voice flowed like hot caramel. “Do you believe?”

  Darrell closed her eyes. This was almost enough to send her upstairs to get changed. Almost. But every time her thoughts turned to Eagle Glen, the same feeling of exhaustion descended, slowing her movements and dulling her thoughts.

  “Do you really believe?”

  Yeah, Darrell thought bitterly. Yeah, I believe. I believe that everything I used to believe is wrong — that time and space are not what I thought they were and that bad things can happen to good people and that good things can happen to bad people and that it’s all an exercise in the random behaviour of the universe.

  Her head hurt. She flung an arm over her eyes to block out the dull January light, and the muted voice from the television droned on, accompanied now by much cheering and applause.

  “Rise up, people!”

  Darrell pressed one ear tightly into the soft cushions of the couch, and the voice muted by half.

  “You too can be saved!”

  “This is what you wanted to watch? You can’t be catching much of it with your head buried like that.”

  Darrell jumped and opened her eyes. “Uh — I guess my show is over,” she said, glancing sheepishly at her mother’s puzzled face. “I’ll come upstairs now.”

  Darrell’s mother reached over and placed a hand on her daughter’s forehead. “Maybe you’re fighting a germ, kiddo. You haven’t been yourself for days.” She slid into a spot beside Darrell on the couch. “David suggested last night that you might be disappointed that I had to cancel our Christmas trip to Italy.”

  Darrell shook her head. “No. I probably wouldn’t have enjoyed it anyway. I’m not sick, I’m just a little tired. That’s all.” She fiddled with the tinsel. “I’m sorry about dinner last night, Mom.”

  Her mother sighed. “I shouldn’t have brought David over for the first time on your birthday, so I’m sorry, too, kiddo. Anyway, you’d better get ready now. We have to leave by noon if I’m going to make the hospital on time.” Darrell’s mother ruffled her daughter’s hair and walked over to the door.

  Darrell glanced up to see her mother blush a little as she scooped a tiny menorah off the untidy top of the dining room table. “I’ve got to remember to thank David for this,” she muttered and set it on top of an overflowing briefcase near the front door.

  A menorah. What kind of a weird gift is a menorah? Darrell shrugged. David had presented it shyly to Darrell at dinner the night before. She had always believed that Chanukah was a kind of Jewish version of Christmas, but he had set her straight and told her the whole story of the festival of lights. Darrell snorted to herself. She could see through him. He was just trying to get on her good side to impress her mother.

  Darrell scowled and leaned forward to grab the remote, when a voice from the television drove all thoughts of her mother’s new friend out of her mind.

  “What do you believe, crippled child?”

  What? D
arrell stood up and took a step towards the television. The screen held the face of the blonde preacher in full close-up, his black eyes blazing. His voice dropped to a whisper. “What do you believe?”

  For a moment, time seemed to grind to a halt. Crippled? Who uses a word like that these days? Darrell’s stomach clenched as she stared at the screen.

  The camera panned out to encompass a tiny girl, blonde tresses rivalling those of the preacher’s for brightness. She wore a frilly blue dress and white stockings over tiny, misshapen legs and supported herself on silver crutches. Darrell came back to herself and drew a ragged breath.

  “I believe,” the girl carolled.

  “Then, walk, my child,” commanded the preacher.

  The little girl threw her crutches aside and, to the sounds of much applause and screaming, strode forward several steps and collapsed into the arms of the now weeping preacher.

  Darrell snapped the button on the remote and the picture disappeared.

  “I didn’t know that shows like that were still on TV,” came her mother’s voice from the doorway.

  “Neither did I,” said Darrell, her mouth still strangely dry. “Piece of junk.” She tossed the remote onto the couch.

  “I used to watch those programs when I was a kid,” remarked her mother as she hauled the laundry up the stairs. “I guess faith-healing never really goes out of style. And it got you off that couch, at least,” she added over her shoulder.

  Darrell paused with her hand on the scarred brown newel post at the base of the stairs. Adrenaline still surged through her. I may not know what to believe, but I’m not crazy, she thought. I knew that guy wasn’t talking to me. She grabbed the banister and took the old stairs two at a time, determined to give her heart a legitimate reason for racing in her chest.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Darrell looped Delaney’s leash around her wrist and joined a straggly line made up of a small group of students and a few travellers getting ready to board a commuter ferry. The line was short and moved quickly, as the ferry was small and serviced only the tiny water-side town of Sisters Bay and Eagle Glen School. Darrell caught sight of a familiar shock of red hair in the line and walked over.

  “Hey, bed-head!”

  Kate Clancy dropped her pack and let out her breath in a rush. “Sheesh! This thing is heavy!” She knelt to pat Delaney.

  Darrell grinned, and her gloomy mood lifted a bit at the sight of her heavily laden friend. “Maybe if you left the laptop at home ...”

  Kate smiled back. “Yeah, that’s likely. Why don’t you leave your foot home, while we’re at it?”

  Darrell pushed Kate into a seat on the ferry. “I’d do better without my prosthesis than you would without that machine,” she said, not really kidding. “So what’re you doing here?” She sat down in the seat next to Kate, and Delaney settled between their backpacks on the floor.

  “My dad had to fly out on business this morning, so I’m stuck taking the long route. How about you?”

  “Same.” Darrell sighed. “My mom was called in to assist in a surgery at noon, so here I am.”

  “When does she leave for the big trip?”

  “Tomorrow. I’ll talk to her tonight, I guess, and then she’s gone for five months.”

  Kate yanked her laptop out of its case. “Which brings me to our plans for spring break,” she said, booting up. “I’ve made a list of stuff we should try to do —”

  “Yeah. Whatever.” The ferry rolled a little, and Darrell pulled her notebook out of her pack. She traced the letters of the first line, the paper like a sheet of ice under her fingertips. I killed Conrad ...

  The words blurred, and she stared pointedly out the window at the waves, white crests slashing jagged lines between grey skies and black water. It was going to rain, and hard, any minute.

  Kate looked up sharply. “Uh — is there a problem? Don’t you want to come to my place for spring break?”

  Darrell dragged her gaze from the turbulent ocean and sighed. “Yeah, it’ll be fun. I’ve just got a few other things on my mind right now, okay?” The sick feelings about the loss of Conrad tightened her stomach into a knot, too painful to shape into words. She sidestepped into easier territory. “My mother has met some guy that she’s working with in Doctors Without Borders and she’s heading off to a war zone for five months. I’ve already lost one parent and now I just might lose another.” She closed the notebook and twisted it in her hands.

  Kate looked horrified. “You are not going to lose another parent, Darrell. Your mom will be away from any of the military action, won’t she? She’ll just be helping people in a hospital, right?”

  Darrell tucked a strand of brown hair back into her ponytail and sighed again. The ferry nudged its way into the dock and she staggered a little as she stood up. “Yeah, she’ll be working in a hospital. But which one? And how close to the fighting?” She thought of the bodies she had seen on the news that morning and shivered as she realized that the nameless dead had only yesterday been somebody’s child. Or somebody’s mother.

  They followed the line of passengers off the ferry and then, as raindrops began to fall out of the sky, dashed onto a waiting shuttle bus. Kate flung her pack into an empty seat but clutched her computer case securely on her lap. A few other students trickled on to the bus before it lurched into motion.

  “Your mom’s wanted to do this for a long time, Darrell. Now that you’re happy at Eagle Glen she can have a chance to give it a try,” Kate said, keeping her voice low.

  Darrell nodded. “I know. And I guess I haven’t made life too easy for her over the past few years, so now that she thinks things are better for me —”

  “She can do something for herself,” finished Kate. “Now, let’s get your mind off your worries and talk about school instead.”

  “Now there’s a cheerful thought,” said Darrell gloomily. She yanked Uncle Frank’s novel out of her pack in order to tuck the notebook away.

  “What are you reading?” asked Kate, looking relieved to change the subject.

  “My uncle gave me this one,” said Darrell, absently. “I haven’t started it, but he usually gives me mysteries to read, so it’ll probably be good.”

  “Great cover.” Kate flipped it over and began to read aloud. “‘A novel set during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, Escape from Spain traces the route that one Jewish family took to flee the horrors of the Inquisition.’” She shuddered. “I’m glad we never saw that part of the fifteenth century,” she whispered. “The Renaissance was enough excitement for me.”

  Darrell shrugged and reached for the book. “I guess reading about it is all we’ll be doing from now on.”

  Kate rolled her eyes and gave up. The bus turned into the long lane that led to Eagle Glen. Rain began to fall in earnest, sheeting against the bus windows and blurring the bleak view of bare-limbed cherry and maple trees that lined the drive.

  Delaney put one paw up on the seat and pressed his nose to the window. “Almost there, boy,” Darrell murmured, and his tail thumped in response.

  The bus crested a small hill before circling a round in front of Eagle Glen. Darrell caught sight of the new nautical warning light standing sentinel on the coastline south of the school. From this angle there was no sign of any charred rubble — all that remained of the old lighthouse on the point. Less than a month ago she had watched as it had burned to the ground, its wooden frame lighting the night sky in a final, brilliant beacon. When the bus stopped in front of the school she stepped off, and the wind sliced through her jacket. Her mother might be heading to a war zone, but the glimpse of the warning light reminded Darrell that life had other ways of claiming casualties.

  Kate ran into the school, trying to tuck her laptop case under her coat. Darrell and Delaney hurried behind through the downpour.

  After shaking water out of hair and eyes, they hauled their packs and duffle bags up to the room they shared with Lily Kyushu. Kate called out greetings to other arriving students as s
he ran up the stairs, but Darrell dragged wearily behind her, eyes downcast. She collapsed in a heap on her comfortable old bed, but Kate grabbed her arm. “C’mon. I’m starving!”

  “Go without me. I need to get some of my stuff organized.”

  But Kate was having none of it. As soon as Delaney curled up in his creaky wicker bed on the floor of their room she hauled Darrell back down the stairs and along the hall. Kate bypassed the student dining hall and beetled straight into the steamy school kitchen.

  The air was redolent with tomatoes and herbs, and Darrell’s mouth was watering by the time she sat beside Kate at the heavy butcher block table.

  “Paella,” said Mrs. Alma succinctly, bustling up to place a bowl of the hearty dish in front of her, thrusting a thick piece of peasant bread into her hand before Darrell had even finished saying hello. Kate beamed at the school cook and gestured wildly, her mouth too full to speak.

  Darrell grinned a little too, her own appetite returning in the warmth of the kitchen and the cook’s welcome. “Thanks, Mrs. Alma. This is obviously just what she needed.”

  To Ana Alma, the school cook, food was love. Judging from the way she practised her art, she adored the students of Eagle Glen. She stood still for a moment to ensure the girls had all they needed, then bustled off to continue preparations for the evening meal.

  While Darrell ate she tried to let the atmosphere of Eagle Glen sink in and warm her heart the way the paella warmed her stomach. This was her third term at the school, and she longed to feel the sensation of pent-up excitement that had greeted her the previous terms. But this time, something was missing.

  Or someone.

  A dark head poked around the kitchen door. “Any food left for a starving traveller?”

  Mrs. Alma bustled up to place a chair beside Darrell and Kate. “You’d better hurry, Mr. Brodie. Miss Kate is on her second bowl, and I think I may have to put on another entrée for dinner at this rate.”

  “Eating the school out of food again, eh Katie?”