They walked along the path again. This time, they came across three teenage girls.
“Here goes,” Jules whispered to Patsy. Then, to the girls, she asked, “Excuse me, I know what time it is, but could you tell me what time it isn’t?”
The girls looked at each other, puzzled.
When one of them actually looked at her watch, Patsy howled.
“What?” another asked.
“What time isn’t it?” Jules repeated.
“Get lost, you little creeps!”
Over the summer, Jules and her father had only one visit. Tracie came, too. It was a beautiful day in August, and they went to High Park. Her dad and Tracie tried not to show it, but Jules could tell they were hungover. All Tracie wanted to do was lie in the shade and sleep it off. Her dad walked with Jules around the park for a while, but she had to play by herself on the kiddie swings for most of the visit.
Early in September, he called to tell her they were going up to Thunder Bay again. “We’ll meet up when I get back. But I’ll be looking for work, too.”
Silence.
“Those dealerships. Too big. Too many bosses.”
The usual sinking, sick feeling came over her.
Another job gone.
Another hope gone.
PART THREE POINT ZERO
CHAPTER
28
Being separate, alienated, doesn’t mean falling off the earth, not being part of it. It’s being in the world – breathing, eating, moving about – and only that. With no spark, no atom of anything else. Time is measured by clocks and days. The sun rises and sets. And people like me are forced to be a part. Forced to be apart.
Mrs. Chapman took Marilyn and Veronica on a big shopping spree just before high school started. The girls said they used their summer wages to pay for all the clothes, but Jules knew that Veronica was putting every penny she earned toward buying a car and Marilyn was saving up to go to Europe with her class. Mrs. Chapman told Jules that when she started working, she could buy her own clothes, too.
The only thing Jules wanted was a pair of skates. Hers were a couple of sizes too small. And when winter set in, she’d be out of luck if she wanted to go to Teresa’s or the indoor rink at Montgomery. She asked her new social worker, Suzanne, if she could get a pair.
Eileen had left Children’s Aid in June to go back to school. There had been a fill-in, Linda, for a few weeks, but Jules never met her. An invisible social worker would have been better than Suzanne. Eileen kept in touch, even when the news she had for Jules was not what Jules wanted to hear – that her dad didn’t always show up for court, that the temporary custody order was being renewed.
Jules could never reach Suzanne by phone at the Children’s Aid office. And if Jules left a message, Suzanne never called back right away.
“You’re not the only family on my caseload, Jules,” Suzanne would say when they finally did connect.
I’d have to be pretty stupid to think that.
Suzanne informed Jules that there was a process to go through if Jules wanted “extras” and that Jules had to be patient. So Jules tried being patient – and ended up with nothing.
The only good thing about September was that Jules would be starting school again, which meant seeing friends every day and being out of the Chapman house.
“Here we come! In the whole wide world, you will not find two more fabulous Grade 8-ers!” Patsy shouted as both she and Jules entered the schoolyard on the first day of school.
Katie Adamson was now proudly in Grade 1 at Our Lady of Peace. When Jules bumped into her, she was as bubbly and excited about everything as Jules remembered her to be. She attached herself to Jules like a magnet, acting like a big shot whenever Jules played with her and her friends. Jules still saw Jeff and John around the school, but because of Katie, she didn’t go out of her way to avoid them like she used to.
My dad can’t get mad at me for it. Mrs. Adamson’s kids are innocent bystanders.
Jules often walked home with them, or – if Mr. Adamson was home – she went as far as their street. The Chapmans lived in the opposite direction. Because the kids dawdled a lot on the way, it took hours for Jules to get “home,” where she promptly got into trouble.
“Jules Doherty and Marta Kowalsky, to the front!”
Lunch period had ended, and they’d just taken their seats.
“Think you can play tag in the school hallways? Think you can do whatever you want because you’re in Grade 8?”
“No, Sister,” Jules and Marta replied in unison.
Marta had chased Jules into the school through the side doors, and their squeals of laughter must have annoyed the teachers who were trying to eat their lunch.
Sister Emily, the former principal, would’ve given them a short lecture and made them stay after class or pick up garbage in the schoolyard. But the new principal, Sister Martha Jane, was something else again. She taught Jules’s Grade 8 class, and – in the short time since school started – not one kind word had come out of her mouth.
Sister Martha Jane pulled out the strap from her desk drawer – in slow motion. “Right hand out, Jules.” Sister stood as far back from Jules as she could.
Wham! The full weight of Sister’s body went into every blow.
Jules wanted to cry out – and would have if she’d hurt herself in the playground.
Then it was Marta’s turn.
By the time Sister finished giving them both the strap, Marta looked like she was going to throw up. Tears ran down her cheeks.
“Back to your seats.”
Sister swapped the strap for her second-favorite weapon, a yardstick, and started patrolling the aisles, talking about “The Highwayman,” a poem they were studying. She liked to tap the yardstick against her palm as she walked, then – pow! – whack it down on a kid’s arm or leg when they least expected it.
Jules held herself in. She wasn’t going to cry – especially because Sister was looking over at her every now and then, expecting tears to fall. There were some people you didn’t show pain to.
If you think your knife-blade eyes can cut into me, you’re wrong. You have no idea how tough I am.
Jules got the strap often after that. She’d find out what rules she was supposed to follow and try to obey them – only to find out Sister had made up a new rule and didn’t tell anybody about it until someone had broken it. Sister marched down the school hallways like a football player, her hands in fists, ready to whack anybody who got in her way. The white starchy thing under her veil pinched her face, making the fat in her cheeks bulge out. Maybe it made her uncomfortable. Maybe being a nun made her uncomfortable. She was the first nun Jules met who wasn’t trying to please God.
“I hate my class. I need to get out of it and go to Miss Davies’s Grade 8 class – the one Patsy’s in,” Jules told Mrs. Chapman one afternoon after school. Asking for something important from Mrs. Chapman was usually a waste of time, but by the beginning of October, Jules felt as if her stomach were being put through a wringer washer when she thought about Sister. She’d already pretended to be sick, though Mrs. Chapman hadn’t believed her.
“What a crazy thing to say.”
“I’m not going to school then.”
“Is that so? Well, Miss High and Mighty, I’m sure you’re in that class for a reason. The school decides who goes where, not you or me. So the answer is no. I’m not asking Sister to switch you. Definitely not.”
CHAPTER
29
I must …
Will my father back to me.
Will him to let me see Mrs. Adamson.
Will Sister to another planet.
Will the Chapmans to the Twilight Zone.
Will myself to grow up so I don’t have to be bossed around all the time.
If Sister wasn’t strapping, punching, or hitting someone, she was getting at them in other ways. Every time she talked about families, mothers, or fathers, she’d look at Jules, stand near her, or ask her a ques
tion.
“Where’s your family from, Jules?”
“Canada.”
“Of course, but which country before Canada?”
“I don’t know.”
Laughter.
“Doherty is an Irish name. Did your father’s family come from Ireland?”
“I don’t know.”
“How about your mother?”
“I don’t know.”
Laughter floated up at Jules, hitting her like Sister’s jabs, punches, and slaps.
I need some relief. And if nobody’s going to give it to me, I’m going to get it myself.
Jules pretended to go to school one day, but didn’t.
She knew how to get to the Kingsway on her own. And by asking bus drivers, she found out how to get as far as Mimico. She got off the bus just past the Queensway, walked up and down Royal York, going in and out of stores, then along some of the side streets. She didn’t expect to see her dad or Tracie.
The city felt weird, like a world children weren’t supposed to be a part of – a parallel universe carrying on when kids were all at school.
When she got tired, Jules took the bus back to Bloor and walked to the Brentwood Library in the Kingsway, eating her lunch along the way. Only old people and mothers with really young kids were there. Some of the librarians gave her a look that meant she shouldn’t be there.
She picked a book – The Secret Garden – found a cozy corner near a window, and read in peace.
After a few chapters, she closed the book and looked outside at the people walking by. Time seemed to be moving at a different pace out there.
How am I going to get through all the years of being a kid and getting pushed around? How am I going to make it?
By the time Jules got back, Mrs. Chapman was almost frothing at the mouth. “Never in all my years of being a foster parent has this happened to me!”
The school had called, and Mrs. Chapman had been made to look stupid in front of Sister Martha Jane – and Suzanne – for not knowing where Jules had gone.
Hurray!
Mrs. Chapman wanted other people to think she was holy and good. But she was just going through the motions.
Jules stared at the vein in Mrs. Chapman’s forehead. It looked like it was going to burst. When Mr. Chapman came home, he joined in the lecturing. Veronica and Marilyn found excuses to be in the kitchen so they could be part of the peanut gallery.
Jules was silent.
“This will never happen again! You’re not getting me into trouble with Children’s Aid – I can tell you that much!”
“And it’s against the law to skip school, in case you didn’t know,” Mr. Chapman added.
Leave it to grown-ups to make laws to punish the punished.
“I don’t know what’s the matter with you lately,” Mrs. Chapman continued. “You’re short-tempered, you fight with the girls, you take off so you don’t have to do chores, and you lock yourself in your room. Do you think you can just do what you want – like you’re someone special? Sister says you’re one of the worst students in the class, that you never do homework … never do assignments.”
Jules stared at the pattern in Mrs. Chapman’s purple and green housedress.
“Listen to me, Jules. Pay attention! You’ve got high school next year, and if you don’t work hard, you’ll end up –” She didn’t have to finish the sentence.
Jules looked around at their faces.
Go ahead. Keep thinking I’m weak or stupid or a loser. You’re wrong. It took guts to do what I did today. And it was worth it. The air felt different, good to breathe, and I was free.
Jules skipped another day of school the following week, then two the week after that. It was hard to stop.
CHAPTER
30
There’d been no visit from her dad in September, though Jules and her dad kept phoning each other.
No visit in October.
He showed up in early November. Sleet stung their faces as Jules clung to him at the Chapmans’ front door.
“Hey, hey. What’s this?”
She couldn’t speak.
“C’mon, Jules, what’s wrong?”
Mrs. Chapman’s face went red. They were making a scene in front of her neighbors. “People’ll start gawking, Jules, and wonder what the drama’s all about.”
Her dad pretended to laugh, but Jules could tell he didn’t think any part of it was funny.
“Where were you, Dad? I couldn’t get you on the phone. Don’t you want to see me anymore?”
“Come in, Jules, for heaven’s sake! The weather’s too awful to be standing outside.” Mrs. Chapman gave them an angry “you people” kind of look as she practically pulled them through the doorway. “Jules, it’s okay. You’re going to have a nice visit,” she said flatly. “Just go into the living room and be with your father there. It’s been a while, I guess.” Mrs. Chapman turned to look at Jules’s father, then moved quickly away from him. “Well, I’ll make some coffee.”
Jules’s dad walked awkwardly into the living room – Jules was still holding on to him.
“C’mon, Jules. Let go, for Christ’s sake!” He smelled of cigarettes and alcohol. His face was pinched with the cold.
They sat in their usual spots on the couch.
“Why didn’t you come?”
“I wanted to.”
No, you didn’t!
“But why not?”
Anger, guilt, sadness moved like shadows across his face.
“I’ve been in this place almost a year. A year, Dad. It’s like prison. I can’t take it!” she yelled.
“ ‘Prison’? Bloody hell.” He edged farther away from her on the sofa. “You know something? You’re getting to be a spoiled little brat. An ungrateful little brat. Look at you! You’re warm, clean, got a roof over your head, no worries. I’d give anything to be in your place.”
“But –”
“Shut up about it or I’m leaving. You don’t understand.”
No, I don’t.
“Things are tough right now.”
When aren’t they?
“Where’s Tracie?”
“Working.”
Mrs. Chapman brought in the coffee.
Jules and her dad sat in silence as Mrs. Chapman set the tray down and left the room. Jules remembered the times they used to drink coffee or tea just to keep warm in their old house.
Beaten down and used up. That’s how he looks.
“C’mon, Jules,” he said, almost like a kid. “It’s such a rotten day out there, let’s cheer ourselves up and talk about something else. Before you know it, it’ll be Christmas, your favorite time of year. Let’s talk about that. What we’ll do – you, me, and Tracie? What do you want me to get you for for Christmas?”
It doesn’t matter what I want. You never get it.
But Jules decided to try and be in a better mood to please him. “A Beatles record.”
“The Beatles? Those hairy creeps?” he said, laughing.
“Dad?”
“Hmm?”
“Christmas’ll be wonderful together.”
CHAPTER
31
“Jules Doherty – one.”
Jules couldn’t help but smile as Sister Martha Jane looked at her with disgust. She walked up to the front of the class and collected her box of doughnuts.
Every year, the kids at school had to sell chocolates, raffle tickets, or something else to raise money for supplies or equipment nobody ever saw once the money came in. Doughnuts were the moneymaker that year. Every kid had to go door to door in their neighborhood, signing people up for as many boxes as they could.
Sister finished reading out the names of students and their doughnut counts. She wanted her class to sell the most and kept saying they had to set a good example for the rest of the school.
Hah! I couldn’t care less. The only thing I want to do is eat as many of those doughnuts as I can before giving the box to Mrs. Chapman.
Mrs. Chapma
n had sprung for only a dozen – and complained about having to do that much.
They were dismissed early to trudge through the streets with their deliveries. Jules first walked to the Grade 1 classroom, at the far end of the school, because she’d promised to help Katie.
Katie’s class was empty, so Jules went outside to look for her. Kids were streaming out of school, heading off in all directions, but a small crowd was standing in a circle just beyond the back exit doors, almost out of sight. When Jules got close enough, she could see that Katie was in the middle, looking frightened. The bully from her old class, Jerry Chambers, was standing over Katie and passing around an open box of doughnuts. Another box lay on the ground.
Jules pushed herself through the circle, snatched the box from Jerry, and handed it to Katie.
“Give it back, foster girl.”
Laughter.
“Make me.”
Jules rarely got into fights. When Jerry or another bully picked on her, especially when they teased her about being in foster care, she’d turn herself off and try to feel nothing.
Maybe they think I’m a coward.
Jerry was the kind of bully who acted like a goody-two-shoes in front of teachers and played mean tricks on kids behind their backs.
Katie bent down awkwardly to pick up the box on the ground. Jerry made a move to kick it away. Jules jabbed him in the ribs as hard as she could. He lost his balance and fell to the ground.
More laughter.
Jerry got back on his feet and came at Jules. She quickly dropped her schoolbag and box of doughnuts to the pavement. With both arms out, Jules rushed toward him and pushed him hard, knocking him down again.
He looked up at her as if he’d never seen her before. Getting up slowly, he turned to face the school. “I hear Crazy Jane. We’d better split.”
Sister Martha Jane’s name was enough to send everybody running.
“What am I gonna do?” Katie wailed. A large tear rolled down her cheek.
Jules picked up her own box of doughnuts. “Take mine, Katie. Your other box is okay.” She opened it to show her. “See? The cardboard’s crunched up a bit, but the doughnuts are fine.”
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