Claire and I spun to face each other. “You quit?” we said at the same time.
“You first,” I said.
“I’m trying out for the volleyball team,” she said. “I can always go back to dance later. But you—you love dance!”
“I know. I’m going to Eastside this year for modern.”
“Like I said,” Jamie drawled, “rhymes with rejects.”
“You should team up with Claire to teach dance,” I said to Jamie.
Claire’s mouth dropped open and her eyes flashed at me.
Jamie held up both palms and nodded with false modesty. “Thanks, but I’m taken. I’m doing weight lifting with Nick. The teacher’s all over our coed approach. You know, Nick’s a guy—”
“—and you’re a girl.” Claire nodded and smiled with relief.
“But, hey,” Jamie pointed back and forth from me to Claire, “you two should teach dance.”
Claire spread her arms and looked at me. “See? That’s what I think.”
“Because I could probably get out of that class,” Jamie continued. “I mean, how boring would that be for me?”
Claire narrowed her eyes. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Jamie.”
The idea of teaching makes me too tense to move. I can’t exactly teach dance when I’m paralyzed, can I? Writing a paper would be a thousand times easier. Claire must be out of her mind.
Thursday, September 9th
A small, beat-up brown car like the one Sasha drove off in the other day was parked at the curb when school got out. A throng of kids was heading down the path to the road, so I snuck in behind them. I had to cross the street to stay hidden, but I glimpsed the driver’s curly black hair and muscled shoulder. Kevin, I think.
My heart pounded hard and my legs shook—be still, my beating heart. But it beat so fast, I thought I might die. I turned and ran in the other direction, taking the fastest, longest strides of my life. My lungs burned. I sprinted well out of range, then bent double and wheezed.
Friday, September 10th
The brown car was waiting by the curb again today. This time, I walked right up to it. Don’t ask me how I had the nerve. I just did. The passenger window was rolled down, and I leaned into it on my elbow. “Looking for Sasha?” I said.
Kevin did a double take. He didn’t move, but his eyes bugged, and then he laughed. It sounded more like a bark. “Natalie! What’s up?”
“Not much. You know, back to school, rah rah rah.”
“Hop in.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“Last I heard, you had your license suspended.”
For a second, he winced, like I’d slapped him. Then he sneered. “Sasha said you turned into a suck—I guess she was right.”
“Just ’cuz I’m not a shoplifter or a drunk driver, suddenly I’m a suck? Try again.”
He blew out a puff of air, felt his pockets, and found a pack of cigarettes. He flicked it open. It was empty, and he tossed it on the floor. I was getting a cramp in my lower back from leaning forward, and besides, I felt self-conscious with my butt sticking out as kids streamed past. I stood up and noticed a dent on the roof of the car.
“Nat!”
“What?”
He mumbled something too low to hear. I was torn between wanting to run like I did yesterday, and wanting to get into the car where I could hear him. As I stood there trying to decide, he called my name again. This time his voice sounded gentle. I looked both ways, pulled the door open, and slid into the passenger seat.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said. “I don’t want people looking at us.”
He started up the car.
“Let’s just go to Cattle Point,” I said.
We drove in silence and parked overlooking the ocean. We watched the gulls and the waves. Finally he said, “That didn’t go as well as I hoped.”
“What do you mean? Were you looking for me?”
He twisted his hands on the steering wheel. “Not exactly. I mean, I thought we would run into each other eventually.” He glanced at me. “I’ve thought about it quite a bit.”
I squirmed in my seat. “So what’s up with you? Whose car is this?”
“It’s my buddy’s. We sort of share it.”
“Does he know you don’t have a license?”
Kevin sighed. “He’s okay with it.”
“What if you got pulled over?”
“I’m not going to get pulled over.” He unrolled his window.
“Even my mom gets pulled over sometimes! She spaces out and doesn’t notice she’s going through a school zone. If that happens, you’re going to get your friend into a lot of trouble. You’ll be up the creek too, of course.”
Maybe I was starting to sound like a mouthpiece for the Law-Abiding Citizens’ Association. The truth was, Kevin made me feel defenseless: I craved his touch, his kiss, his skin. If I acted bitchy, he couldn’t tell how weak I was. “What happened to riding your bike?”
“It got stolen.”
“Then you should walk or take the bus.” I couldn’t quit. “What are you doing with yourself, anyway?”
“I’m getting by. I’m helping a friend with his business.” He patted the dashboard. “That’s why we share the car.”
Kevin didn’t seem like the type to have entrepreneur friends. I couldn’t really see him palling around with software designers or restaurant managers and applying for grants from the Ministry of Small Businesses. His black curls were looking a bit matted, he hadn’t shaved in a while, and he wore a hemp necklace. In the next breath, I smelled a familiar aroma: weed.
“It’s not legal. Sharing the car, I mean.”
Kevin shook his head. “You seem to think the law is some ultimate authority on right and wrong. But it’s not! The law is just something made up by some fat middle-aged guys in suits. Ever seen the Parliament channel on cable? They’re like a bunch of overgrown kids picking on each other on the playground. And the worst part is that the laws don’t benefit people. They benefit corporations.”
Kevin must have made some new counter-culture friends. I wasn’t up to an argument about the legal system. But I did have another burning question. “The last time we talked on the phone, you said you wanted to see me.”
Kevin glanced at me. “Yeah?”
“When I was in Vancouver.”
“I remember.”
I looked away. I couldn’t bring myself to ask, What for?
He opened the car door. “Let’s get out.”
Breathing fresh air and scrambling over rocks sounded good. I hauled my backpack with me so I wouldn’t have to return to the car.
We found a bench at the top of the outcropping. He sat down and stretched his arms across the seat back. I had to choose a spot at the far end of the bench so that his arm wouldn’t drape behind my shoulders. The wind buffeted us.
“This has been hard,” he said, staring at the water.
“What do you mean?”
“We had an intense week in July.” His forehead wrinkled. He hesitated, then said, “You’ve got something, Nat. You’ve got some ... some drive or sense of purpose or something. You’ve got this strength and … and this sort of calmness to you. You’re the calm in the eye of the storm.” He looked at me. The wind swirled and eddied as if on cue. “I need to be around that sometimes. My life is just the opposite; it’s one storm after another. You know?”
I can’t believe he sees me that way. It’s like he looks up to me, even though I’m so much younger.
“Does this mean you weren’t just using me in the summer? Remember, you said, ‘Older guys are only after one thing’?”
“Nat, that’s what I mean: I don’t really feel any older than you.”
Monique said the
same thing, and she’s twenty-two, so maybe he’s telling the truth.
We sat there for a little while longer, then I said I had to go.
“Can I give you a ride?”
I stood and hoisted my heavy pack onto my back. “No, thanks. I could use the walk.”
He looked up at me from the bench. “Can I call you?”
His eyes pleaded, and I felt a surge of tenderness. “Okay.”
As I plodded home, I thought about what he’d said. His feelings for me seemed genuine. And he’d made an effort to find me. I mean, he must have known Sasha was at Vic High. If he wasn’t looking for me, why else would he park outside my school?
Saturday, September 11th
The owner of the corner store bagged the vanilla yogurt I’d biked down for at Mom’s request—it would top the fruit salad she was making for lunch. He was handing me change when Sasha sauntered in, wearing flip-flops, cutoffs, and a scoop-necked T-shirt that drew attention to her breasts. Her makeup looked heavy enough for the stage. I was starting to speak when her eyes slid off me. She pretended not to know who I was.
“A pack of DuMauriers, please.” Her voice had dropped half an octave into an “I-could-care-less” kind of drawl.
The proprietor jerked his thumb towards a sign next to the cash register: It is illegal to sell tobacco to anyone under nineteen years of age. “Need to see your ID.”
“Come on, I buy cigarettes here all the time. It’s usually your daughter who works Saturdays, right?”
The man tensed his jaw. “It’s against the law to sell tobacco to minors. All cashiers working here know this. If not, who do you think gets fined?” He poked himself in the middle of his chest with his index finger. “I get fined. No ID, no cigarettes.”
I edged towards the door. “Let’s go, Sasha.”
She slapped out of the store, and I followed her. She flipped her middle finger behind her head as we crossed the threshold. “I came all the way here because his daughter sold me a pack last week.”
“You probably got her in trouble just now.”
She snorted. “Not my problem.” She blew air out her bottom lip to lift her bangs off her forehead. “That was my last chance. Now I’ll have to break down and ask my brother for smokes.”
“Or you could quit.”
She singed me with her glare.
I looped the plastic grocery bag onto my handlebars. I wanted to get away, but I wanted to hear her say more about Kevin. “So what’s new?”
“I have to stay at Vic High.”
“Shitty,” I said. “For the whole year?”
“For the fall, anyway,” she said. “It’s okay, though. The classes are a joke and the kids aren’t as snotty. You know the rich kids at Oakridge, the ones who call themselves the Beautiful People? I found out they’re only there because they were too dumb to pass the entrance exams at the private schools—all their daddies’ cash couldn’t make up for the fact that they’re, like, brain-dead. No one would fall for their bullshit at Vic High.”
A car pulled into a spot right beside the bike rack and we moved away from the exhaust. “Do you want to push our bikes for a ways?”
She checked her watch. “Okay, for a little ways.”
We headed for the crosswalk. “How’s it going with your family?” I said.
“Don’t ask.”
“Still not talking to your mom?”
“I want nothing to do with her.”
I pressed the button to change the light.
“What about your dad?”
“He’s putting a roof over my head. That’s it. And I’d ‘better be grateful I’m not in juvie.’”
“Sounds tense.”
“Yeah.” She used a high, strangled voice to underline the point. “He pretty much wishes me and my brother were never born.”
At the mention of Kevin, my stomach jumped. Should I tell her I’d hung out with him the day before? I dreaded her anger, but keeping secrets again felt worse. The light changed and the two-tone walk signal chimed. “I saw Kevin yesterday.”
“What? Where?”
I rolled my bike off the curb.“He was parked outside the school, so I went and talked to him.” Oncoming pedestrians forced us to walk single file. I imagined her glowering at my back. On the opposite sidewalk, we fell in line again, shoulder-to-shoulder. “I guess he’s driving without a license.”
She stopped walking. “So? What’s it to you?”
I didn’t really have an answer to that. “I was just surprised he would take that kind of risk.”
“You’re such a suck. Why don’t you just mind your own business?”
I hung my head and didn’t reply.
Her voice changed as she realized the truth. “You’re still obsessed with him, aren’t you? That’s what this is about. I can’t fuckin’ believe it. Trust me, you’re not going to get anywhere with him.”
The day before at Cattle Point, Kevin showed real emotion. The feelings between us weren’t one-sided. I was sure of it. “How do you know?”
Sasha laughed. “Believe me, I know. I’ve been fielding phone calls from his exes for years. Some of them were really nice girls, Nat. And pretty too.” She swung her leg over her bike. “He made them all feel special.” She tilted her head. “I’m going this way.” She swooped into the road and did a donut. When she passed me again, she paused, her toe touching the curb. “You know what?”
I was adjusting my helmet. “What?”
“When you started this thing with Kevin, you obviously didn’t care how I felt. So it’s karma.”
“What do you mean?”
“Getting hurt by Kevin. That’s your karma.”
She wheeled again and took off up the hill.
Sunday, September 12th
Dad called tonight to drop the bomb: he and Vi are getting married.
I didn’t say congratulations. I said, “Does this mean you’re staying in Ontario forever?”
From the upstairs phone, Paige asked, “Will you have babies?”
Dad hedged. I thought he was just too embarrassed to explain his vasectomy to Paige, so I said, “Dad had an operation so he can’t have any more children.” I expected Dad to back me up, but he didn’t. “Right, Dad?”
He cleared his throat. “Um, well, uh …” Usually, he’s straight and to the point, very “business communications.” So I knew something was up.
“The operation might actually be reversible.”
“What?”
“I’m not saying we’re going to have any children, but, well, Vi has asked me to consider reversing my operation.”
“And you’re going to?” I was practically shouting.
“I’m going to consider it, yes.”
“Does that mean I’m going to have a little baby sister or brother?” Paige said from the bedroom. “Sweet! I’ve always wanted one.”
She thinks it’s like getting a goldfish or something. But I have a younger sibling. I know what it means. I’ll feel responsible for those kids, my half-brothers or sisters, the way I do for Paige. What if something happens to Dad and Vi? There I’ll be, the old-enough-to-be-their-mother half-sister. They’ll rely on me. And Dad’s acting like this has nothing to do with me!
My hands were shaking as I hung up, and my body temperature plummeted. I boiled water for tea, my teeth chattering.
Mom actually sounded excited. “Getting married!” Or maybe it was only surprise. She has a perma-flush these days, so I couldn’t tell whether she was glowing in reaction to the news or not. How long does infatuation usually last? It’ll be nice to have my mother back once she recovers.
Paige skipped downstairs and sprang into the kitchen. “I can’t wait to be a bridesmaid!”
I pulled the afghan off the couch
and drew it around me like a shawl. “The bride usually asks her friends, or her sisters, not the groom’s daughters.”
“You never know.” Mom frowned at me and turned to Paige. “It’s very possible that you two will be in the wedding party. And even if you’re not, you’ll be guests of honor.”
I was still shivering, and my stomach felt hollow. Mom was making me feel like Natalie-the-Selfish-Grouch, who ruins everything for Paige. So I didn’t say, “I don’t want to go to the wedding.” Instead, I sipped my tea and burnt my tongue.
I really hope the doctors can’t reverse the vasectomy, or that Vi can’t get pregnant. I know: I’ll research infertility hexes. A wedding must be the perfect place to cast one.
Monday, September 13th
It was impossible to concentrate at school today. Burning sensations erupted in my chest every time I thought of Dad and Vi. During a Math quiz, I fell back into an old habit. I flipped my quiz over and wrote:
Dear Dad,
How can you even THINK of starting another family? You have no right! You’re totally absent from my life! If they made you take a parenting exam, you’d FAIL. It should be ILLEGAL for you to bring any more children into the world.
I didn’t notice the teacher patrolling the rows. My rapid writing must have caught his attention because he leaned over my desk. I flipped the paper, but not before he read part of it. How embarrassing. I erased the note once he moved on but left most of the quiz blank.
Even though Math isn’t my strong suit, it’s not like me to fail a test. After everyone left, I approached the front of the room. The teacher was stuffing the quizzes into his briefcase. He’s kind of gruff, and I didn’t know what to expect.
“Mr. Lee …”
He paused to look at me. His round, silver-rimmed glasses were slipping down the low bridge of his nose. “Yes?”
“I was wondering if I could rewrite the quiz. I—I couldn’t concentrate today.”
He smiled. “Don’t worry about it. I won’t hold one off-day against you.”
Tuesday, September 14th
Off-Day #2. Crushing sadness. If I had a choice, I would pick anger: at least it gives me energy. Today, I slumped at my desk, shoulders rounded and chest caved in. My eyes kept filling with tears as I pretended to take notes.
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