Cursed!

by Maureen Bush

  The rest of the trip was long, but peaceful.

  CHAPTER 14

  The Perfect Week

  After a night on the road and another day of driving, we caught the last ferry to Vancouver Island. As we were driving off the ferry, Lewis opened his book on military history. “What’s this, Jane?” he asked, pointing at the page.

  I read it silently and smiled. Without speaking, I sat at attention and saluted. Then I touched my shoulder. I waited to see if Lewis could figure it out.

  He read it silently, frowning. He read it twice more and smiled. “The soldier raised his rifle to his shoulder,” Lewis read.

  We grinned at each other, and he and Old Moby cheered.

  BB groaned when he saw Old Moby. “Why did you bring Old Mopy?” he asked.

  I started to snap back that his name was Old Moby, and then I had a better idea. I held up Old Moby and let him speak for himself.

  “‘And just what does BB stand for?’” he said, his little hands waving. “‘Bad Bully? Big Bug? Bothersome Brother?’”

  “That’s enough, Jane,” Mom said in a stern voice.

  I grinned to myself and glanced back at BB. He was staring at Old Moby. “Hmmmm. I’m starting to like Old Baldy after all,” he said.

  I sat back, rubbing Old Moby’s bald head. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad name for him.

  The drive to Grandma’s seemed to take forever. I squirmed and twisted, barely able to contain myself. After all my work to get to Grandma’s, we’d almost made it.

  I looked back at the Spirit Man; he was staring at me. “We’re almost there,” I said, pretending to talk to Old Moby. “You behave!”

  The Spirit Man nodded ever so slightly and went back to watching out the window.

  Just before we reached Sooke, I spotted a field of early spring flowers. “Oh, stop, stop!” I said.

  I jumped out and picked an armful. I wove them into a wreath as we drove.

  When we arrived at Grandma’s, I greeted her with a huge hug, cried, “I’m so glad to be here,” grabbed my bags and dashed inside. I ran up the stairs past the masks, but stopped halfway up and went back for Lewis. “C’mon Lewis. We’ll go up together.”

  I dropped my bags in the living room and walked into the bathroom. The Spirit Man—the wooden one—stood in his usual place by the toilet. He just stood there, not moving, not smiling, his hands on his hips. I swallowed, my stomach knotted. But it wasn’t as bad as I’d feared. He didn’t look quite as tall as I remembered.

  I lifted up the wreath of flowers and glanced back to the doorway. The ghost Spirit Man stood watching. When I held out the flowers, he looked horrified, like he was saying, “You’ve got to be kidding!” So I set them on the counter and turned back to the statue. I took a deep breath, looked straight into his eyes, and bowed. As I stood, I let out my breath in a slow steady stream.

  The ghost Spirit Man nodded, crossed the room and dissolved into the wooden Spirit Man. He just stood there, still powerful, still shiver-inducing, but not so very scary after all.

  I bowed once again and walked out of the bathroom. I still wasn’t going to pee beside him.

  We had a week of wonderful weather. This was the first time I’d been to Sooke in the spring, and it was gorgeous. It was sunny and warm, but no one got sunburned, and I didn’t hear Mom cough once.

  We had a perfect day at the beach—sunny, with a light wind and big waves crashing. It was the most perfect day in a week of perfect days.

  The morning we left, I walked into the Spirit Man’s bathroom, thinking about how nice our visit had been. Nice, gentle, quiet. It was exactly what I’d been longing for all year. And yet, somehow, it was missing something.

  The Spirit Man stood by the toilet, glowering. I felt a thrill of fear in my stomach. That was it—it was too nice! It was—it was boring!

  “Bartolomés, saddle up!” Dad bellowed.

  Voices answered, and footsteps thumped on the stairs.

  “Jane, let’s go,” Dad yelled up at me.

  “Just a sec,” I called back.

  I stared at the Spirit Man. He stared back, his hands resting on his hips, his shell eyes unblinking.

  I stood there, quivering. Should I be rude to him again?

  Acknowledgments

  I gathered threads for this story from many places, far too many to mention. But special thanks are due to: Mom, for the witchdoctor and the masks and your lovely house in Sooke, for reminding me of how Adriene and Lia crept down the stairs together to stick out their tongues at the masks, and for not minding when we renamed the witchdoctor the Spirit Man; Adriene, for tugging grass out of the witchdoctor’s skirt, so that Grandma promised him to you; Lia, for your struggles with pronunciation and reading, and for churtles and the sand creature story; and the emus at Pheasant Heaven. Yes, they really do exist. And it’s a great place to stay, if you’re passing through Sorrento.

  Born in Edmonton, Maureen Bush was raised there and in Calgary. She has worked as a public involvement consultant and trained as a mediator. Maureen is the author of Feather Brain (Orca, 2008) and two books in the Veil of Magic series, The Nexus Ring and Crow Boy. She lives in Calgary with her husband and two daughters. She can be contacted at maureenbush.com.