She walked listlessly over to the Christmas trees in the plaza parking lot. Not many left. Christmas was only seven days away.
In Zellers, Mrs. Adamson was busy with a customer, and Frances was buzzing back and forth from the storeroom. The next couple of days would be hectic.
Why don’t I give my doll a name? That’d be a good idea, even if I don’t get her for Christmas. Let’s see. Teresa, Terry, Elizabeth, Lizzie, Margaret, Maggie. Perfect! I call thee Maggie. And so it shall be for all time!
Jules smiled a real smile for the first time that day.
She wandered over to where the doll clothes were on display and pretended she had lots of money and could spend all of it on a complete wardrobe for Maggie. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mrs. Adamson watching. She had that same look of concern on her face.
Don’t you dare worry about me!
Jules finished playing with the dolls and decided to finish the book she’d started yesterday. Just as the announcement came on to tell shoppers the store was closing, she left the store.
It was hard to come back to herself, to look as if she were just another kid walking home to her family.
Please be there, Dad. Please.
She glanced at the houses on either side of her place before looking at her own.
No, no, no. Oh, Dad.
At eight o’clock, Jules went to her bedroom, set up the fort, and lay inside. Craziness crept inside with her. If she fell asleep feeling this way, she might have her awful nightmare again.
She crawled out, sat down by the window, and pulled her knees up to her chin.
The Christmas concert was late this year because the gymnasium had needed repairs. It was all decorated and magnificent now. Each class would come to the stage and perform, just like they’d practiced. Maybe her class was playing their recorders right at that moment. She imagined the joyful notes floating over the audience.
When the concert’s over and the lights come on, I bet Mrs. Fournier won’t even care I’m missing. Just Patsy. And tomorrow, I’ll have to face the mean kids and their nosy questions.
She got a blanket and wrapped it around her body.
Dreams in my head. That’s all I ever had.
CHAPTER
11
Another sleepless night.
I can’t go to school. If someone asks me why I wasn’t at the concert, I’m going to start crying. I’m just going to do what I want today.
She went downstairs, made some toast, and turned on the TV. “Captain Kangaroo” was on. She never got tired of watching that program. Captain Kangaroo looked like what an older father or nice grandfather might look like, might act like.
I’m going to walk to Zellers and play with the toys all afternoon. That’s way more fun than being with any of the kids at school.
No, it isn’t. I’m going because Mrs. Adamson’s there.
It was windy but warmer than the last few days had been. She took her time walking to the plaza. Mrs. Adamson looked surprised to see her. But lots of people were buying toys, and Jules was glad Mrs. Adamson was busy.
Jules played with Maggie – with all the dolls – for a long, long time. By two-thirty, her empty stomach hurt. She went to the book display and picked up a Nancy Drew mystery.
This’ll take my mind off food.
She buried herself in the book.
“Hi, Jules.”
Patsy’s voice.
Jules looked up to see Patsy standing in front of her. She glanced at the store clock.
Four o’clock already!
“You weren’t at the concert last night or at school today. How come?”
“I was sick.”
“So why’re you here?”
“I’m feeling better.”
“Oh.” Patsy looked at Jules as if to say, “I don’t believe you.” But Patsy knew better than to ask too many questions.
“Patsy, Patsy, wait up.” Rosey walked over with a worried look on her face, pulling Marcus behind her. “Look, it’s too hard taking care of Marcus in the store. He’s wandering all over the place. Besides, we gotta get home.”
“Okay. See you at school tomorrow, Jules?” Patsy asked.
“Sure,” Jules said, not looking at her.
Patsy and Rosey took Marcus by the hand and walked down the aisle.
Jules watched.
Patsy has problems. But at least she’s not alone. I’m as alone as ever a person could be.
Jules tried to concentrate, to keep her eyes on the words in the book, but she couldn’t. Tears dropped onto the page.
Not here. Not in front of people. What a baby I am. What a stupid –
“What’s wrong, honey?” Mrs. Adamson was suddenly there, crouched down in front of her.
Few people ever spoke to Jules in a warm soft voice. It caught her off guard and made her cry harder.
“Come to the back, where it’s quiet.” Mrs. Adamson stood up and put out her hand.
Jules couldn’t look her in the face, but she took Mrs. Adamson’s hand as she got to her feet. They walked to the back of the store, through a set of swinging doors, and paused in front of one marked STAFF.
“Wait here a minute.” Mrs. Adamson went inside.
Minutes later, a few employees came out. Some stared at Jules. Others continued on with their conversations.
Mrs. Adamson held the door open. “C’mon in. I’ve put the kettle on. Let’s have some hot chocolate.”
I shouldn’t be here. I don’t want to talk to anyone.
Mrs. Adamson shut the door behind them and got a chair for Jules. She pulled down two mugs from a kitchenette cupboard and filled them with instant hot chocolate. They waited in silence for the kettle to boil.
When the hot chocolate was ready, Mrs. Adamson handed a mug to Jules. “Here. You’ll like this.”
I don’t like anything.
Jules couldn’t look at Mrs. Adamson, but she took the mug and held it in her lap. Its warmth felt good.
“Why weren’t you at school today?”
None of your business.
Jules kept her mouth shut, her head bowed.
How can I ever tell?
Mrs. Adamson brought a chair close to Jules and sat down. “I know something’s wrong, Jules. I … just want to help. I …” She paused. “Life can be so hard, and if you’re young and if you’re alone, things seem harder. I sure know all about that.”
How can you possibly? Nobody can.
Mrs. Adamson sat quietly beside her for a long time. Jules was glad she didn’t try filling up time with empty words.
“Jules, something’s not right. It might help to talk about it.”
Alone, alone, alone.
“Jules?” Mrs. Adamson asked softly.
If I say nothing, you’ll give up.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
Won’t you ever stop asking?
“Nothing!” Jules said too loudly. “Nothing,” she repeated, strangling a sob.
“I’ve never seen you so sad.”
Jules was shocked.
It’s a secret, my sadness.
It was frightening, terrifying, to think Mrs. Adamson could see it. Nobody ever noticed anything, except maybe Patsy. No grown-up ever talked to Jules like they wanted to find out what was on her mind or what was bothering her. Most people thought she was a moody kid. She’d heard her father say that enough times to his friend Hank, and Hank sure seemed to agree.
She looked into Mrs. Adamson’s face.
Adults only see what they want to see in a kid. Why should I be honest? I know how to fool people. Why let a stranger into the rotten part of my life? Besides, if I say anything, if my words go out into the air, it’ll make everything real.
Mrs. Adamson put an arm around her.
How can a stranger be like this to me? To Jules, the stinking weirdo?
If Mrs. Adamson had been mean, Jules could have kept silent, but kindness made Jules’s feelings crash together and burst out.
“
My dad. He’s left me. Doesn’t want me.”
“What do you mean, ‘doesn’t want you’?”
“He got mad at me last Friday night and called his friend. They went out, and he hasn’t come back.”
“Friday night?” Mrs. Adamson looked away, and Jules knew she was thinking about all the days that had passed since then. “That’s a long time, Jules.”
As if I don’t know.
“Do you know where your dad’s friend lives?”
“No … yes. But I don’t really know how to get there.”
“How about where your dad works? Do you know the telephone number?”
“Yes. Dad’s got it written down somewhere for me. But …”
“You didn’t call?”
“No.”
“Well, maybe I could.”
“No!” Jules shouted, pulling away from her.
“It’s okay, hon. I won’t, I won’t.” Mrs. Adamson looked up at the ceiling and took a breath. “All right,” she finally said. She held Jules as she stared at the wall in front of them. It was decorated with Christmas cards. “Has your dad ever stayed away so long?”
“Weeknights, sometimes, and weekends, too, when he’s dri –” Jules caught herself. “When he’s with his friends. But not longer than two nights in a row. This time, I think he doesn’t want to come back. He’s fed up with me.”
Anyone else would say, “No, no, Jules, that can’t be true,” when they didn’t know anything about her life.
“Okay, hon. Okay.” Mrs. Adamson was silent again. She looked like she was having trouble knowing what words to use. “I’m sure you can manage on your own. In fact, I suspect you’re pretty amazing.” She looked at Jules with a half-smile. “But you shouldn’t be on your own every day.”
She says I’m amazing. It feels good to hear someone say that.
But a heavy, dark feeling was taking hold of her.
Silence is bad, speaking up is bad.
“Nobody should tell my dad and me what to do,” Jules said in a mean voice.
“Of course not. But … sometimes people, families, need extra help just to stay together, to keep going. I know that myself. And … I know you’re strong, stronger than almost any young girl I’ve ever met. But even strong kids shouldn’t be alone for so long. Don’t you think?”
Jules didn’t know what to say. As young as she was, she knew that – unlike most kids – she was beyond needing to be looked after by anybody. Not because she wanted it that way, but because that’s how her life had been for the past few years. Nothing could change her back into a kid who needed to be told when to eat dinner or what clothes to wear.
But she was tired.
“Could you sit here for a few minutes? By yourself? Will you promise to stay here? I’ll be back in a sec. No one will bother you.”
I don’t want to promise anything.
Jules’s first impulse was to run away the minute Mrs. Adamson left the room. She started to plan how she could get out of the store quickly, without being seen, but she didn’t move her body to make it happen.
While Mrs. Adamson was out of the staff room, every so often another employee would pop their head in, say hi, and ask Jules if she wanted anything. Was she hungry? Did she want any more hot chocolate?
“No” was all she could manage to say.
This isn’t right. I don’t like strangers being kind to me for no reason.
Mrs. Adamson finally came back. She talked about Christmas, and Jules kept her mouth shut.
This is a huge mistake. I’m in for it now. From strangers. From my dad.
After twenty minutes or so, there was a knock on the door.
Mrs. Adamson got up and opened it. “Hi. I’m Sophie Adamson,” she said. “C’mon in.”
Jules looked at the woman who entered the room.
“Hi, Jules,” she said gently. “My name’s Eileen, Eileen Ward. And I’m a social worker.”
PART TWO ZOMBIELAND
CHAPTER
12
Jules left the store with Eileen, walking through it feeling ashamed, like a criminal.
Eileen told Jules she was going to take her to a safe place, where she’d be looked after, and took Jules home to get some clothes. In the car, she explained more about Catholic Children’s Aid.
Jules found it impossible to say more than yes or no to Eileen. Her mouth was dry, and her tongue felt swollen.
It was terrible having a stranger, a social worker, come into their house.
I feel like I’m under arrest.
“I don’t need you,” Jules cried out suddenly, in a panic, her voice breaking. “Get out! I’m not going anywhere. I have to be here for when my dad comes back! He’s coming back. You can’t take me anywhere. You can’t!”
“It’s all right, Jules. It’s okay. I’m only here to help you and your dad. And part of my job right now is helping you find him. I’m going to leave my contact information for him, both here and at his work, so he can get in touch with me when he comes back. I know you’re very worried about him. But you can’t be on your own.” Eileen kept looking around the shabby kitchen as she spoke.
I’m always on my own, you idiot. I don’t need anybody to look after me – except my dad. Get the hell out of here!
Jules sat down in a kitchen chair and wouldn’t move. “No, I’m not going,” she said. She held on to the seat of the chair with an iron grip.
Eileen found a beat-up suitcase in her father’s closet, but Jules refused to pack any of her clothes. Eileen had to do it.
No. No. No.
Eventually, Eileen got Jules – somehow – to move, to walk out of that house. She used words that were meant to be kind, about finding her dad and helping them both, but mixed in were words about the law and Catholic Children’s Aid. The outside world was grabbing her, reaching in and pulling Jules away from her dad, her life. And there was nothing she could do about it.
Eileen drove Jules to downtown Toronto. She explained that they were going to an emergency home, where children like Jules stayed after they were taken by Catholic Children’s Aid. Jules had thought she was going to be put in some kind of orphanage, but it turned out to be just an old house on Roncesvalles. Mrs. Currie was the owner. As they walked through the front door, children seemed to be screaming and running everywhere. Jules barely noticed anything else.
Help me, somebody. Help me. I have to get out of here!
Mrs. Currie gave Jules something to eat, but Jules pushed the food away. Eileen sat down with Jules and began asking a lot of questions about Jules’s dad and their life together. She even asked about her mom. Jules just shook her head yes or no.
I’m not going to say anything. Not going to betray my dad more than I’ve already done.
Jules wasn’t going to talk about his angry moods or the endless drinking. And yet these were the things Eileen wanted to hear about – like she was a detective for the bad in people. Eileen also asked Jules about the bruise on her cheek, about whether her dad or anyone else hurt her.
Dad spanks me sometimes. So what? Lots of parents spank their kids. You’re turning him into a bad man.
Eileen left around seven-thirty. Mrs. Currie was watching TV in the living room with the other kids. Jules told Mrs. Currie she was tired, and Mrs. Currie took her up the narrow, creaky stairs to the second floor, showed Jules where the bathroom was and where she was supposed to sleep.
Jules stood in the middle of the bedroom, hearing nothing as Mrs. Currie spoke to her. The room was hot, stuffy. The smell of bleach was strong, and when she breathed in, Jules could almost taste it on her tongue. Toys were scattered across the wooden floor. Two blue dressers flanked the large window, which looked out onto the street, and crayon scribbles covered every inch of the gray-white walls. Jules’s small suitcase rested on the bottom bunk of the bunk bed against one wall.
As soon as Mrs. Currie left her, Jules changed into her pajamas and opened the bedroom door before lying down on the bunk bed. She listened to the
sounds of TV and people moving around downstairs. An hour later, two boys and a young girl came up. The boys went into one room, and the young girl came into Jules’s room with Mrs. Currie. Mrs. Currie turned on the light. The little girl, Trudy, who looked to be around seven, fought with Mrs. Currie about having to go to bed, making enough noise to wake the dead. Jules pretended to be asleep.
Morning was chaotic. The boys were arguing at the breakfast table as Mrs. Currie shouted at one of them – Jimmy – to get ready for school. The noise woke Trudy up, and she went downstairs. A few seconds later, she was back in the room with Mrs. Currie, who pulled Trudy’s wet sheets off the bed. When Mrs. Currie tried to get Trudy to change out of her wet pajamas, Trudy began to scream.
Jules curled up on the bunk and stared at the wall. She refused to get up.
At ten o’clock, a babysitter came to the house to watch the other kids. Mrs. Currie announced to Jules that – like it or not – she had to get out of bed and go with her to a doctor’s office. “They just need to look you over, Jules. The doctor will check your weight and height, that kind of thing.”
I’ve never been to a doctor in my whole life, and I don’t need one now!
Mrs. Currie told Jules that she’d be in and out of the office in two minutes. But she lied.
Jules frantically pushed the nurse’s and doctor’s hands away from her whenever they tried to touch her, grabbing hard, shoving them away with all her might. She almost knocked the nurse to the floor.
“Relax, Jules. We’re not going to hurt you,” the doctor kept saying. “We just want to make sure that you’re okay, head to toe.”
No. Don’t. You can’t. Don’t touch me!
“Now calm down, Jules,” the doctor said, sounding frustrated. He turned to the nurse. “Just keep her still, would you? C’mon, kiddo. Don’t be afraid.”
Jules would’ve made herself disappear off the face of the earth if she’d had the power.
When they got back to Mrs. Currie’s house, Jules walked up to the bedroom and slept on and off for most of the day. At dinner with the other kids, she pretended she couldn’t hear or speak, so that nobody would talk to her. Afterwards, she quickly retreated to her room.
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