by Karen Bass
Narain slid his tray into the middle of the table and motioned for Sid to help herself. “Are you trying to make an enemy of Wes and his pals?”
“He grabbed my a...” Sid glanced at Taylor, who looked suddenly pale. “My butt.”
Taylor still hadn’t said a word. Narain seemed to notice the awkward silence and tried to fill it with a jumble of words – about classes, the basketball camp he had signed up to attend in July, the movie he saw on the weekend. When he commented on Sid’s new look and said he liked it, Taylor pushed back from the table and rushed, head down, toward the exit. He collided with a huge wall of flesh, bounced off it and kept trucking, not slowing to hear the football player he’d hit call him down or the laughter that followed.
Sid felt as puzzled as Narain looked. She asked, “What’s up with Tay, Narain? He’s been like this ever since he freaked out on me on Saturday.”
Narain pushed his tray all the way across the table. “Eat. I’ll track him down.”
Sid nibbled at a chicken finger but her appetite was fading
fast. She never much liked eating in the cafeteria. It was tolerable if you had someone to sit with, but when you were by yourself, trapped in a bubble of silence while noise ricocheted around you, reminding you that you weren’t just sitting by yourself – you were alone and alone was the fate of social outcasts – then it became an endurance test, one that you wanted to finish as fast as possible. Better to stride down the halls, looking like you were on your way to meet someone, even if all you were doing was going to hide in the library, than to sit alone and have your status confirmed.
She dropped the dried-out tip of a chicken finger and rose. Two steps from the table, Wes cut her off, looking ready to wrap his fingers around her neck. Before he could say anything, Mr. Franklin joined them. “Here’s your change, Sidney.” He held out the money.
Sid glanced from the cash to Wes and back. She scooped the money from Franklin’s hand and shoved it into her pocket. Or tried to. Not being used to wearing such tight jeans, she had to work at it for a second or two.
Franklin clapped his hand on Wes’s shoulder. “You should be more careful, son. Those line-ups can be easy places for accidents to happen.”
Wes glanced down at his stained t-shirt. It had to be white. And the tab label on the sleeve suggested it was expensive. Sid used the distraction to escape, disgusted with how cowardly she’d suddenly become.
She searched the halls but couldn’t find Narain and Taylor. Finally she gave up and retreated to the library. No one there except a few students with their faces hidden by books, who looked up when she walked in, noses twitching like mice who smelled a cat. Despite her appearance, she wasn’t a cat –
and this was still the best place to hide when they were on the prowl, the one place they stayed away from.
When the bell rang to end lunch break, several of the library’s inhabitants actually flinched. Sid knew that’s how she’d end up if she didn’t get her plan back on track. And a key part of the revised plan was going to be avoiding Wes. He kept making her look bad – and that couldn’t be good for her attempts to impress the band.
For the next few days, Sid found ways to survive. Keep an eye on the crowd, zig into the open lanes in the halls, zag around any jock set members she spotted. Even if Taylor was sitting down when she walked into the cafeteria, he was always gone by the time she got through the line-up, so she sat with Narain and his girl, Lelah, and tried to look interested in her chatter. Lelah had apparently taken Sid’s change at face value and now assumed she was interested in girl stuff. From Lelah’s comments, Sid confirmed that Heather knew what she was doing.
A few times Sid tried to strike up a conversation with a girl in one of her classes, but it fizzed out in clumsy attempts at discussing things she knew nothing about. Sid couldn’t even answer simple questions like, where did she get her belt? How stupid would it sound to say her cousin picked it out and she hadn’t been paying any attention to what store they were in?
Wes watched her in carpentry class with unnerving intensity. That worried Sid. What worried her more was how often she saw Rocklin watching her in the halls, but not approaching. Did he like what he saw or not?
Evenings she would do homework and unwind on the drums. For a plan that was working, if it was working, it sure was making her feel crappy. Her drums were all that kept her from screaming like a chick in a bad horror movie.
Thursday afternoon, Mr. Franklin sent Sid to her counselling appointment a few minutes early. She was done the bridal chest. Franklin was disappointed she wasn’t going to leave it for display but since her cousin’s wedding was in two days, he gave her the nod to take it home.
On her way to the office, Jeff Clementine ambushed her. Pulled her into a recessed doorway and crowded up against her. His eyes were a flat, pale green, like a mountain lake on an overcast day. He didn’t look like the bearer of good news.
“Let me go, Clem. I’m on my way to the office.” She tried to free her wrist from his hard grasp, which was nothing like the relaxed way he held his guitar.
“I know where you’re going.” He leaned against the wall, trapping her in the corner.
Sid thought of Wes. Was he sucking up by ratting her out? “So let me go.”
“I don’t want a girl in my band.”
“You said that last week. Rocklin calls the shots and you know I’m better than Wes.”
He shrugged. “What if you are? That’s not the point.”
“What is the point? I’m late. Brock will come looking for me soon.” She hated the way he was still gripping her wrist, his body almost touching hers, his breath hot on her cheek.
“The point is...I’m watching you, Crowley. The whole band is. A lot of guys have been watching you this week, which just proves I’m right. You’ll be trouble if you drum for us.” He shifted so his lips were beside her ear. “Who dropped you at school this morning?”
Sid got it. He was watching her very closely. But watching for what? She said, “My cousin.” She hated the way his nearness was starting to intimidate her.
“Not your girlfriend? Too bad. I said it would be better for you if you were gay.”
“Well I’m not. And I’m still a better drummer than Wes. Is it true he’s getting a shot?”
Clem inclined his head.
“Will I?”
“Not if I have a say. And not if Wes works out.” He released her, stroking her thigh as she stepped past him. She shot him a dirty look. He grinned. “Want to hit me? Or do you want more?”
What was his game? “The only thing I want from you is the chance to play drums.”
Outside the counsellor’s office, Sid kept her mind from her run-in with Clem by considering how she could corner Taylor at his house. She was pretty sure he worked at the garage tonight so wouldn’t get home until nine o’clock. His mom didn’t like visitors dropping by after that because he needed homework time. She had tried sending some instant messages, regular email, posting on his Facebook. He didn’t respond to anything. Five minutes in his driveway was all she needed, just long enough to ask what was eating him. If Narain knew something, he wasn’t talking. Ask Tay, was all he ever said.
Her fingers were tapping rapidly on the armrest when Mr. Brock opened the door and invited her in. Sid sprawled in her chair, then abruptly sat up and crossed her legs. Somehow sprawling didn’t suit her new look. Her foot began to twitch.
Brock got comfortable and said nothing for a full two minutes. Sid could feel herself winding up, getting tighter. Twitchier.
Finally, Brock said, “You’ve been dressing differently this week. More...”
“Fashionable?”
Brock adjusted his glasses. “You don’t look very comfortable.”
“I’m sitting in a shrink’s office.”
“I’m a counsello
r, not a shrink. So what brought on the change?”
Sid looked away.
“Okay. So let’s say it’s because of your run-in last week with Wes Remichuk. You’re trying to...what? Fit in?”
“Is that a crime?”
“No, but you have to be true to yourself, Sidney. You look very nice but you also have to be comfortable. In your clothes, but more importantly, in your skin.” When Sid said nothing he continued, “I hear you had another clash with Wes.”
Sid was tired of the combined lecture and inquisition. She leaned forward a bit. “A clash? Is that what you call it? He grabbed my ass so I spilled my lunch tray on him.” She sat back, expecting to be called on her language.
Brock didn’t blink. “So Mr. Franklin tells me. Do you think you handled that in the best way?”
“Have you ever had someone squeeze your ass?”
One corner of his mouth raised. “Point taken. In case you’re wondering, Mr. Franklin did address the issue with Wes. I believe he received two noon-hour detentions.”
Sid almost swore. That would explain why she hadn’t seen him in the cafeteria. Didn’t Franklin realize he had made things worse? Her face must have revealed some of her thoughts because Brock said, “Maybe I need to have a session with you and Wes together.”
“No.” Sid jumped up. “Look. I have everything under control.” Or she did, until Franklin interfered. “I don’t want your help. I don’t want anyone’s help.”
“Everyone needs help once in a while.”
“Sure. And if I need it, I’ll ask for it.” Sid headed for the door.
Brock’s chair squeaked. “We aren’t done, Sidney.”
“Yes, we are. This was just a ‘touching base’ session. Mission accomplished.” Sid made sure to close the door quietly on the way out.
13 | syncopation
Sid had taken the coward’s way out on Friday and had told her dad she had really bad cramps. Mention of her period always made him stutter. He’d been willing to phone the school and send Sid back to bed with a heat pad. As soon as he was gone, she had thrown on her cargoes and In Flames shirt and had spent the morning in the basement with her drums.
But there was no way to get out of Saturday. Sid was in middle of putting on her wedding costume and mask when she heard Devin arrive. The front door slammed. He shouted that he knew he was late and that he’d be dressed in a flash, but first he needed a shower.
More doors slammed. By the time Sid finished wriggling into the pantyhose that Heather had insisted she had to wear (to hide those hideously white legs), the shower was running and Devin was whistling behind the locked bathroom door. Sid banged on it and yelled, “Hey, Devin. We have to be out the door in half an hour.”
“Yeah, yeah,” came the muffled response.
With ten minutes to go, Sid was in the living room, more nervous than if she was walking down the aisle. She perched on the edge of her dad’s recliner and smoothed the blue material of the dress. The tiny black polka dots felt like the material had goosebumps. A fringe of black crinoline showed along the hem of the dress and was echoed in the belt. The sweetheart neckline and spaghetti straps made Sid feel semi-naked. She had to force herself to not play with the necklace that dangled less than two centimetres above the neckline. Her toes tested the freedom of black sandals with unstoppable jiggling. They had a low heel, still more than Sid had wanted, and now she was wishing she’d done as Heather suggested and had walked around the house in them through the week.
James walked in from the kitchen, adjusting his tie. He stopped when he noticed Sid, his gaze flicking up and down. He smiled and nodded. They both heard Devin coming down the hall. Sid stood.
“I’m ready. I told you I’d be –” Devin halted by the front door and froze with his jacket half on. Ten seconds later he blinked. “Sid? Oh man, little sis, what did you do to yourself?”
Sid started to bite her bottom lip then remembered the stupid lip gloss. “It wasn’t me. Heather gave me some fashion advice.”
“Wow. I’m not sure I’m ready for my little sister to look so...so womanly.” Devin finished putting on his navy suit jacket. “I’m not going to be able to enjoy myself now.”
Sid frowned. “Why not?”
“’Cuz I’ll have to keep an eye on you.”
“Dad,” Sid said. “Are you going to let him tease me like that?”
“All he did was say what I was thinking.”
Sid huffed. She marched toward the door and almost wiped out when she stepped off the carpet. Devin caught her by the elbow. “Walk much?”
“Funny. Be thankful you’re a guy and can wear comfy shoes.”
Their cousin, Mandi, was getting married at a posh hotel. The ballroom opened to a walled garden where the cere-
mony took place. It was a perfect day – Aunt Kathy would stand for nothing less – with Mandi looking like a fairy tale princess attended by fluttery ladies-in-waiting, one in blue, one in pink, and the last, Heather, in pale green.
By the time the late afternoon ceremony was over, Sid’s shoes were pinching her feet. Devin escorted her into the ballroom where the reception was set to take place in an hour. While they waited, the wedding party had pictures taken in the courtyard with its array of potted tropical greenery.
Sid found a corner, slipped off her shoes and massaged each of her feet in turn. Most of the people milling around were either from Uncle Peter’s family or were their friends and neighbours. Neither Devin nor James were intimidated by the room full of strangers and visited with whoever was closest. As usual, Devin managed to be closest to a group of young women. Sid admired the ease with which he talked to them, and got them laughing.
She sat back and stretched her legs out straight. Someone in a grey suit tripped over her feet, stumbled toward her, veering at the last second, and fell onto the chair beside her.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“No, it was my fault,” Sid replied as she tucked her unclad feet under her chair.
She glanced, expecting an old man, and found herself facing a guy about her own age. He had black curly hair and blue eyes. At least she thought they were blue – it was hard to tell with the way he was squinting. He might have looked like a model for a Greek statue except that his nose was a little long and his chin a little pointed. Actually, his face was a bit like a triangle topped by a black mop.
Sid realized she was staring and looked away as heat crawled across her cheeks. Then she realized he had been staring, too, so she looked back. What was a person supposed to say when she’d almost tripped a stranger? She held out her hand. “I’m Sid. Mandi’s my cousin.”
The guy dropped his gaze, lightly touched her hand then withdrew. “I’m, ah, Brad. Ah, Brad Dmitri. Mandi is, ah, was my neighbour.”
“You used to live by Heather?”
“Still do. Mandi moved out about four years ago.”
“Oh, right.”
Brad continued to squint. Sid was starting to think she had a blob of mascara on her cheek or something. She excused herself, took two steps, came back for her shoes and carried them to the ladies’ room. It was actually two rooms. The outer room had a sofa, a wing-backed chair and a wall of mirrors with chairs and vanities in front of them. And a chandelier. In the bathroom. Sid mouthed wow, and headed for the nearest vanity. An examination showed nothing obviously wrong so Sid moved to the sofa and stretched her legs out. Only when women started trickling in did she put her shoes back on.
A middle-aged woman entered and paused in the middle of the room. “Are you with the wedding in the Oak Leaf ballroom?” Sid nodded and the woman said, “People are starting to sit down for the dinner. You might want to get out there and find out where you’re seated.”
Reluctantly, Sid went, then was glad she had because it took her five minutes to find the right table. A
minute after she sat down, Devin and a young woman joined them.
Sid whispered, “Where’s Dad?”
“He traded with me so Lydia could sit with us.”
Sid and Lydia exchanged unenthusiastic smiles. If Lydia worried about having to share Devin’s attention, she didn’t need to. He ignored Sid. Why, she wondered, was I so excited about him coming home? The other people at the table were older, friends of her aunt and uncle’s. One of them knew James so Sid had to answer a few questions. Mostly, she picked at her food.
She spotted where the guy, Brad, was sitting, but even though he was looking toward her he didn’t so much as nod. What did she expect from a neighbour of Heather’s? She studied the room as speeches started, then wore on. And on.
The oak walls of the banquet room were a perfect background for the white linen table cloths and chandeliers which looked like they were about to release droplets of glass on the heads below. A trim of carved leaves marched around the edge of the ceiling – the oak leaves of the room’s name, Sid assumed. The same trim accented the bar at the back of the room.
“A toast to the bride,” someone said.
Sid hadn’t been listening but was sure this was the fourth such toast. It was the best part of the meal. She hoisted her glass of wine and took a sip. Maybe a bit more than a sip because her glass was almost empty. She topped it up, in case there were more toasts. A few of the older people at her table gave her amused glances. Devin cleared his throat and scowled at her. Finally, he paid attention, but only to disapprove. Sid stuck out her tongue at him and took another sip.
The master of ceremonies announced that the dance would start in thirty minutes. Sid raised her glass. “I’ll toast to that.” The man at the microphone paused. Had she said it loud enough for him to hear? He raised his glass and smiled at Sid. “Right. Time to party, folks.” Laughter filled the room.
Devin took Sid’s glass away. “I think you’ve had enough.”
“Enough? Didn’t you hear the man? It’s time to party, big brother.” Sid smiled broadly. She felt warm and relaxed and Devin was not going to ruin that.