by Sheila Agnew
Back home, I tried again to study for Friday’s math test. By tried to study, I mean I spent an inordinate amount of time arranging my highlighters and shuffling things around. Meeting Leela had spooked me. I stared at the numbers in my book without seeing them. I saw only Leela’s self-satisfied knowing smile, and Coltan’s parting smirk. I couldn’t concentrate on studying at all. I kept thinking about the court case. Somewhere along the way, it had assumed a whole life of its own; it was like an invisible fire-breathing, poisonous mythical creature that had taken up residence uninvited in our home and never had the manners to take even a single day off. The more I didn’t study, the more panicked I became about Friday’s math test.
Que sorpresa! I blew it. The math test. I only got eight out of thirty questions right, and even getting those had been luck. It was a multi-choice test. If you pick enough ‘c’s’ you’re bound to get some right. Mr Papadopoulos didn’t say anything to me when he handed me back my test paper. I avoided eye contact and held on to the faint hope that he’d forgotten his threat. When I got home after school, I made myself a peanut butter and banana sandwich and went down to the clinic still munching. I popped my head in the door of the examining room. Scott was treating a Dalmatian with a case of the hiccups, which didn’t seem too serious but Malik, the Dalmatian’s owner pointed out they’d lasted for more than a week. Scott looked pretty flummoxed.
‘Hi, Scott,’ I said, ‘I’m going over to Greg’s, I’ll be back by six.’
‘Not so fast, Evie,’ he said. ‘I need to talk to you about a call I had today from your math teacher. I’ll be finished in the clinic in an hour or so. Go get on with your homework upstairs.’
Crapola. I dragged my feet up the spiral staircase, feeling a strong surge of resentment towards Mr Papadopoulos. Why couldn’t he focus on his own life and stop sticking his big conk into mine?
Lost in my own thoughts as I wandered into the living room, it took me a few seconds to notice the couple passionately embracing on the couch. Horribly embarrassed, I was about to mumble, ‘excuse me,’ and back out of the room, when I remembered, hey I live here. I cleared my throat nosily. The couple sprang apart.
‘Holly!’ I said.
She giggled nervously and straightened her bra strap.
‘Sorry if we gave you a scare Evie, this is Karl.’
‘Hi,’ said Karl.
‘Hi,’ I said back a little uncertainly. Holly was so pretty. What was she doing with such a gross-looking guy? He had a mullet haircut, which I’d never seen before except on TV and a tooth missing right near the front.
Karl stood up and gave Ben a pat and some treats out of his pocket.
‘I gotta run,’ said Karl, and he flicked me and Holly a sort of half-salute before sauntering out the door as if this was a hotel.
‘KARL!’ I said to Holly, ‘OMG, isn’t that your old boyfriend, the drug dealer, who threatened your old boss with a knife when he got out of jail?’
Holly’s face turned faintly pink.
‘He’s changed! He’s going straight now. He’s turned his life around,’ she said defensively.
I was just about to say something highly derogatory when I remembered Finn’s reaction when I said druggies don’t change. I felt ashamed of myself.
‘Evie, please don’t tell Scott, he might get mad and fire me,’ begged Holly.
I hesitated. ‘Holly, Scott wouldn’t want that guy around here.’
Holly crossed the room and stood in front of me.
‘Karl’s drug days were a long time ago. He’s changed. He’s moved to New York to be with me. He’s got a job at the gas station over on Tenth and he’s training to be a mechanic. He deserves a second chance.’
I hesitated again.
‘I won’t have him around here again, I swear,’ Holly said.
I remembered how nice Karl had been to Ben. Someone who likes animals can’t be all bad.
‘Ok,’ I said, ‘I won’t say anything to Scott.’
‘Thanks, Evie,’ Holly said giving me a big hug. She smelt faintly of gasoline.
She left soon after that to go to her new restaurant job. For once, I was glad to see her go. I didn’t have a good feeling. I didn’t like keeping secrets from Scott. I already had the Lorcan and me secret and now I had another one. Scott’s Mr Laid-Back, Joanna said once. (She didn’t mean it as a compliment). Scott wouldn’t be laid back about having Karl around. No way. But maybe Karl really had changed. I mean it was difficult but not impossible. Who Holly wanted to go out was Holly’s business, I thought. I don’t want to be some interfering busybody like Mr Papadopoulos!
Later that evening, Scott told me that he’d hired a math tutor to come by once a week to help me. Of all the tutors in all the schools in all the world, he chose Finn. Yep – Finn Winters, the guy who thinks of me as an almost kid sister. Great. Now I would be his stupid, almost kid sister. It was UNBEARABLE.
‘Noooooo,’ I begged.
Scott looked surprised. ‘I thought you liked Finn.’
‘I don’t want him to be my tutor,’ I said, ‘he’s only two years older than me. If I have to have a tutor, shouldn’t it be a real one. Or why can’t you tutor me?’
‘Me? I still count on my fingers and if I even hear the word “pie” and it doesn’t involve eating, I feel frightened,’ said Scott. ‘And, I trust Finn,’ he added decisively, ‘this one isn’t open for discussion. This isn’t a democracy.’
‘It’s a dictatorship,’ I moaned.
Scott looked unsympathetic. ‘It’s not forever, Evie, pull up your scores and if you do well in the rest of your tests then you won’t have to go to summer school.’
‘I’ll go to summer school. Cancel Finn!’
‘What’s got into you, Evie?’ said Scott, ‘was there something strange in the peanut butter? Of course, you don’t want to be in summer school when Kylie and Greg and loudmouth Lorcan and all your other friends are at the beach. Look, do a few sessions with Finn and let’s see how it goes. If you don’t feel he is helping, we’ll find another tutor. Ok?’
‘Ok,’ I said, ‘sorry about the money.’
‘Stop worrying about the money. I got this covered. Give Finn a chance. Think about how it’s going to look to the Judge if you are failing math under my care.’
I bit my lip and hung my head.
‘I totally promise I’m going to try my best,’ I said.
Scott grinned. ‘Good attitude,’ he said.
Chapter 25
The humiliation of being tutored by Finn wasn’t the only thing I worried about. Yesterday I felt pretty alarmed when Kylie, flung herself on my bed and pulled up the duvet so only her pink highlighted hair was visible. This wasn’t the way she normally acted.
‘Is everything ok?’ I asked.
There wasn’t any reply but some strange muffled noises.
‘Are you crying?’ I asked incredulously.
More muffled noises. I sat down beside her on the bed and rubbed her back because that’s what my mum did to me when I cried when I was little and I didn’t know what else to do. Kylie isn’t a crier. Her mom, Rachel, once told me that Kylie hadn’t even cried when she fell while she was performing on the ice two years ago and broke her left arm in two places.
Suddenly, a seed, a dark horrible thought formed in my mind and began to germinate. I said it quickly, the only way I knew how.
‘It’s not your Mom, is it? It’s not Rachel. Is she … sick?’
Kylie sat up in the bed and faced me.
‘Oh no, it’s nothing like that.’
‘Good,’ I said relieved, ‘well, how bad can it be? What’s wrong? Please tell me. Maybe, I can help.’
And then it all came out so quickly and with so much sniffling that it was hard to follow but basically, she and Akono had broken up.
‘Forever and ever,’ Kylie added dramatically, ‘he’s so mean! I never want to see him again.’
While I think ‘mean’ is the very last adjective someone would use to d
escribe Akono, this wasn’t the time for semantics.
I nodded vigorously and offered Kylie some tissues.
I still wasn’t clear on precisely what horrendous transgression Akono had committed. It seemed to start with him saying that she looked like a pink frosted cupcake and ending with him saying that she was full of it.
‘Can you BELIEVE him?’ Kylie asked, thumping my pillow vigorously.
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘What?’
‘I mean,’ I said hurriedly, ‘I believe Akono said that stuff but of course you are not full of it, whatever it is. And your hair doesn’t remotely resemble a cupcake. The pink cupcakes have a much darker frosting.’
‘I can’t be with someone who doesn’t fully support my dreams,’ sniffed Kylie.
‘No, of course not, you deserve so much better,’ I answered.
Kylie smiled through her tears.
‘Akono’s not even cute!’ she said.
‘Not one bit cute,’ I responded.
‘And he thinks he’s so smart and knows everything,’ she added.
‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘how smug! Annoying! Loser!’
‘And those baggy jeans he insists on wearing make me want to barf,’ Kylie added.
‘I’ve never seen anyone with less fashion sense,’ I said, ‘those jeans do my head in. Do you want a slice of red velvet cake? I asked. ‘Scott did an amazing job in saving a beagle puppy that had a horrible accident. It fell into the garbage disposal. His owner was so grateful, she baked the cake especially for Scott. It’s the most fabulous cake ever!’
‘I couldn’t even swallow a tic-tac,’ said Kylie, ‘I’m way too distraught. Breaking up is so traumatic.’
‘Exhausting!’ I agreed although I didn’t have any personal breaking-up experience. I hugged Kylie hard. I hated seeing her so upset.
I tried playing an upbeat boys band song to cheer her up.
‘OMG! That was our song!’ said Kylie.
I quickly switched it off.
‘Ben!’ I yelled and a minute later, Ben trotted in the room, yawning, one of his floppy ears, askew.
Kylie smiled. ‘I love when his ear does that thing where it hangs over his head.’
I nodded. ‘So cute!’
‘Here, Ben,’ I said, patting the space on the bed beside Kylie.
He jumped up and stretched out beside her. She scratched his ears.
A few minutes later, she said solemnly, Akono is DEAD to me. D-E-A-D!’
‘Dead to us!’ I said.
‘Thanks, Evie,’ she sniffed, ‘maybe I could manage a teeny slice of the red velvet cake, just a taster portion.’
‘Of course,’ I said delighted, ‘good idea, I’ll get it right away.’
Chapter 26
A few minutes after five yesterday, we got the call every veterinarian dreads – Mrs Rubenstein. Every veterinary practice has its own Mrs Rubenstein. This time, she was calling about her favourite cat, Muffles. When Scott asked her to bring Muffles into the clinic, Mrs Rubenstein said in an offended tone,
‘But it’s raining. Cats don’t like to get wet.’
‘Nor do I,’ replied Scott.
Joanna glared at him.
‘Ok, ok, Mrs Rubenstein, one of us will be right over. What exactly is the problem with Muffles?’
‘If I knew what the problem was, why would I be calling you?’ Mrs Rubenstein said snottily.
Scott put his fist in his mouth and bit down on it before continuing.
‘What are her symptoms?’
‘She is distressed,’ said Mrs Rubenstein.
‘In what way is she distressed?’ asked Scott.
‘Severely! Is there any other way?’
Scott gave up at that point. He hung up and flipped a coin with Joanna to see which of them had to go. Joanna lost. (She shouldn’t have let Scott do the toss. While I can’t figure out how he did it, I strongly suspect he cheated. He must learn something from all those hours he spends watching poker on TV). I made the huge gesture of offering to accompany Joanna.
After helping her pack up all the stuff she thought we might need, we donned raincoats and headed out. As we splashed our way down Columbus Avenue, Joanna remarked that she hadn’t seen much of Kylie around the place this week. (Joanna is so observant.)
‘No, she’s busy, school and stuff,’ I said.
Joanna must have picked something up from the tone in my voice because she asked gently:
‘Have you guys had a fight?’
‘No, nothing like that. We never fight.’
‘Ok,’ said Joanna, and we crossed over and passed by the Lincoln Centre from which wafted the strains of an orchestra tuning up. We stopped in the rain to listen for a few moments.
‘And ice-skating,’ I said.
‘What?’ asked Joanna.
‘Kylie. She’s ramping up her ice-skating practice this year so that’s why she’s extra busy.’
‘I see,’ said Joanna, ‘but the two of you are all good?’
‘Oh, yeah,’ I said, ‘all good, well, except things are a bit awkward right now.’ I continued in a rush. ‘And, I don’t know how to fix it,’ I wailed. ‘You see she and Akono broke up. She was really mad with him and upset and I kind of trashed Akono along with her. That’s what good friends are supposed to do, right? Anyway, I agreed that he wasn’t that cute, that kind of thing. I wanted to be on her side. Then a few days ago, out of nowhere, Kylie and Akono got back together. Now, Kylie keeps saying things like, “So you don’t think Akono is that cute? And, you think he’s smug?” and I don’t, I really don’t. I don’t know what to say.’
Joanna stopped by the traffic lights and looked at me sympathetically.
‘Evie, you’ve learned a valuable lesson the hard way. Never ever trash an ex unless you know the breakup is permanent and even then, don’t do it.’
‘I realise that now,’ I said sadly as we reached Mrs Rubenstein’s building.
The doorman on duty in her building was a woman with a long ponytail. I’d never seen a female doorman (or I suppose I should say doorperson) before. She seemed very put out that we were interrupting her phone conversation. She pointed at the elevator bank with a jerk of her thumb without pausing in her conversation.
We rode the elevator to the fourteenth floor. It’s really the thirteenth floor but like a lot of buildings in Manhattan, they call it the fourteenth floor because it’s difficult to rent apartments on the thirteenth floor. I’m not superstitious about the number thirteen. When I was in second class, I won a raffle by picking the number thirteen. The prize was rubbish, a book of Irish fairytales that I’d already read but still, thirteen is a lucky number for me.
To our surprise, Mrs Rubenstein’s current husband, wearing an oversized woolen cardigan and the kind of slippers people steal from hotels, opened the door. We’d never met him before. Scott says Mrs Rubenstein doesn’t allow him to leave the closet in their apartment.
Joanna said, ‘Hi Mr Rubenstein, I’m Dr Barratt and this is Evie.’
I held out my hand, but Mr Rubenstein shrank away like he was frightened of my touch. Mrs Rubenstein appeared and barked at her husband,
‘Harold, what are you doing out?’ (Aha, so maybe Scott’s theory had some substance after all, I thought).
The poor man looked scared. He shuffled off in his slippers.
Mrs Rubenstein turned her attention back to us.
‘Muffles is this way,’ she announced leading us through to the living room. The whole room was basically taken over by her three cats and all of their paraphernalia.
Muffles lay on her side in a soft red basket beside the TV.
‘What seems to be the problem?’ asked Joanna bending over to look at Muffles.
‘She is suffering from some deeply troubling psychological issues that have manifested themselves in the form of excessive weight.’
‘Excuse me?’ said Joanna.
‘She’s gotten fat,’ said Mrs Rubenstein.
‘You asked us to
make a house call because your cat’s put on a little weight?’ said Joanna coolly.
‘This isn’t any ordinary cat,’ said Mrs Rubenstein haughtily, ‘you can trace Muffles’ bloodlines back to the Mayflower.’
Joanna sighed and bent down to examine Muffles. As she did so, I looked around the room. The walls were covered with blown-up photographs of the cover of Mrs Rubenstein’s book as well as photographs of her with many different cats. But most of the photographs featured Muffles.
Joanna stood up and asked for some hot water. After washing and disinfecting her hands, she carried out an internal examination, anxiously watched by Mrs Rubenstein. Joanna looked up.
‘Muffles doesn’t have a weight problem.’
‘Impossible,’ said Mrs Rubenstein loftily, ‘I weigh her every day.’
‘The reason Muffles doesn’t have a weight problem,’ said Joanna as if Mrs Rubenstein had not spoken, ‘is because she’s pregnant.’
‘TOTALLY IMPOSSIBLE,’ roared Mrs Rubenstein, ‘why I don’t let that cat out of my sight. Nine months ago, we were in Palm Beach and she never left our hotel suite. To think you would accuse her of fornicating with some local common street cat, my poor baby.’
‘Fine,’ said Joanna rising to her feet, ‘although you might feel a bit differently when the first kitten pops out, which I estimate will be in about fifteen minutes. Goodnight, Mrs Rubenstein.’
Mrs Rubenstein clutched wildly at Joanna’s white coat.
‘What? How?’
‘Cats are pregnant for about nine weeks, not nine months,’ said Joanna.
‘My poor baby. Poor Muff. Oh, I bet it was that hideous common orange tomcat that that insufferable alcoholic in 2L lets run wild all around the building. I’m going to sue him for the rest of his life. Putting Muffles through this kind of trauma. What kind of genes could that thing pass on? He should be exterminated.’