“She’s still sleeping. I think she was up late again last night doing school work.”
“I hope she’s not going at it too hard. She has to have some fun too, like our Jennifer here.” He patted me on the arm.
That was me all right. If I knew how to have any more fun, they’d have to limit my access to household appliances. As I was trying to come up with something agreeable to say, the oven timer went off, and our attention happily shifted to the bread that Mrs. Guido was pulling from the oven. Mr. Guido and I grinned in anticipation, and by the time we’d eaten a whole loaf of herbed bread and a slice or two of whole wheat, my pathetically dull social life didn’t seem like such a big deal.
Ambie was still in bed when I left the Guidos just before lunch with two loaves of bread to share with Dad. The fact that she hadn’t gotten up to see me seemed strange, and I decided to check in with her as soon as I could. Her mother’s worry was adding to my own feeling that all was not right with my best friend. I wouldn’t let Ambie face whatever she was going through alone. I’d ignored her for most of the summer and was not about to let that happen again.
I phoned Ambie on Sunday night after supper, but she was out. Mr. Guido said she’d gone to a movie with Cindy Vickers, but he’d have her call me when she got home. Dad left to work on a car in his shop that needed to be fixed by morning, so I pulled out my biology textbook. Mr. Williams hadn’t assigned the chapter on plants and photosynthesis, but I had time to kill. I lay on my stomach under a reading lamp in the living room and read for an hour or so. I snapped the book shut and rolled over onto my back. The material hadn’t been half as boring as I’d thought it would be. I checked my watch. Nearly ten o’clock, and Ambie hadn’t called. Well, I’d see her at school the next morning, so I’d find out what was going on then.
I checked out the window for Dad’s car before I climbed the stairs for bed, but he was nowhere in sight. I was just dropping the curtain back into place when a car’s headlights pierced the darkness. I stood for a moment more, hoping Dad was finally home. I hated it when he worked in the evenings. It would be good to have him home and to give him a hug before I went to bed. The car slowed in front of our house but didn’t turn into the driveway. I kept watching. It was a small car that looked very familiar. It passed under the streetlight across from our driveway. In that instant, I saw Evan Quinn turn to look at our house from the white Lamborghini he’d sworn wasn’t his. Just as quickly, his face turned away from me, and the car accelerated from sight.
There was no law against someone driving past your house, but all the same, it made me feel a little creeped out. Cindy’s warnings about Evan flashed through my head, making me feel even more on edge. I did an extra circuit of the downstairs, making sure all the doors and windows were locked. “You’re spending way too much time alone, Bannon,” I mumbled to myself. I took one last look around the living room before reaching over and flicking off the lights. Time to get to bed and start over again on Monday. All I needed was a good night’s sleep and, possibly, a new haircut to make everything right again.
CHAPTER NINE
Nothing out of the ordinary happened the first part of the week except that Evan Quinn was absent again. Rumours started flying around the school—Diane Saunders and Heidi Larsen, two girls in my biology class, caught up with me as I was heading to the cafeteria for lunch.
“Have you heard the latest on Evan Quinn?” Heidi asked. Heidi was five feet tall with golden hair that hung the full length of her back. “His family is in the drug trade. His father isn’t around because he’s either in jail or in hiding.”
Diane nodded, her eyes shiny behind red-rimmed glasses. “Evan’s in it up to his neck. Bobby saw a needle in his schoolbag. He’s probably in rehab or something, trying to break his drug habit.”
I blinked a few times, trying to think if I’d seen any signs of Evan having a drug problem. The expensive sports car and the fact he’d been hanging around my house were weird but not criminal. “Is there any evidence of his dad doing something illegal?” I asked.
Heidi shook her head. “From what I hear, they move every time someone starts asking questions.”
“Well, his sister Karly is at school. I saw her Monday morning going to class,” I said.
“Karly Quinn doesn’t talk to anyone, and she’s only taking two classes. She leaves school before lunch,” Diane said. “Don’t you find it odd that nobody sees them around town?”
“Not really,” I said. “They haven’t lived in Springhills all that long.”
“I think they’ll be moving on by Christmas,” Heidi said. “Maybe they’ll go back to the States. The RCMP should be closing in on them soon.”
At lunch I waited around for Ambie in front of the cafeteria. She was late, and I’d almost given up hope of her coming when she rounded the corner.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said as we lined up with our trays. Most of the kids had already gotten their food, and we didn’t have to wait to place our orders. We got steaming bowls of chicken noodle soup and grilled cheese sandwiches and found two empty seats at a table of Grade Nine students. Luckily, they were done eating and left a few minutes after we sat down. The rest of our friends were sitting at a long table across the room.
“So, Ambie, how’s it going?” I asked, taking a sip of milk.
“Good,” Ambie said. She’d put her long blonde hair into a ponytail, revealing silver hoop earrings that swung and caught the light as she moved. “Sorry I missed you on the weekend. Dad told me you called on Sunday, but I went to see a movie with Cindy at the last minute and got home late.”
“Are you feeling better now?”
“Yeah. Much better, thanks. Did you call about anything special?”
“No, not really. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay with you. It feels like we never get to see each other any more.”
“I know,” Ambie said. “Let’s do something together this weekend.”
“I’d like that,” I said. “So, nothing’s new then?”
Ambie picked up her soup spoon and dipped it into her bowl. “No, unless you include a unit math test on Thursday and a calculus test Friday. I’m going to have to study like crazy, since I didn’t do much on the weekend. I’ll be glad when we get to my place after school on Friday. That’ll mean I survived the week.”
“Here’s to Fridays,” I said, raising my milk glass.
“To Fridays,” she laughed, picking up her water bottle and clunking it against my glass.
On Thursday afternoon, I stayed late after school to try out for the track and field team. Mr. Jacks and Miss Po were running the tryouts. I liked Miss Po, who’d taught me Grade Eleven Phys Ed and was always cheery and positive. Mr. Jacks, on the other hand, was as far from cheery as a grizzly bear with a toothache but not a bad guy when push came to shove.
They had their heads together comparing clipboards when I arrived.
I started doing some warm-ups alongside the others, who were chatting and laughing as they stretched. I seemed to be one of the few without a friend to talk to. I checked the group and saw most were from Grades Nine and Ten. It didn’t look like track was popular with the high school seniors. Mr. Jacks wandered over and stood next to me. He was wearing a purple sweatband around his bald head, which clashed with his granny apple green tracksuit.
“Jennifer Bannon. I’ve never seen you out for the cross country team before. What makes you think you’re qualified to do it this year?”
Was he expecting a resumé? “I’ve been running on my own all through high school and thought I’d give this a try. If I don’t make it . . . well, that’s all right.”
Mr. Jacks wrote something on his clipboard. “We’re not exactly swamped with senior girls, so the odds are good you’ll make the team. Whether or not you’ll embarrass yourself at the regional meet is anyone’s guess.” He flicked his pen on the board for emphasis as he walked away.
All the things I disliked about Mr. Jacks were starting to come
back to me. I bent down to tie my shoelace, keeping myself from taking a run at his retreating back. A lot of people might have thrown in the towel right then and there, but I wasn’t one of them. Instead, I could feel a slow burn starting in my belly and spreading up to the roots of my scalp. “I’ll show you, you old coot,” I mumbled under my breath as I stood from my crouched position. I could feel my cheeks flush with anger. “We’ll see who ends up embarrassed.”
The cross country route started on the track and cut into a path through the woods that skirted along the river before detouring onto the road that led back to the school. I’d been running up and down hills for most of the summer and didn’t find this trail particularly challenging. The hardest part was waiting for the groups of girls to spread out so that I could pass them. By the time I turned onto the road that led back to the high school field, I’d passed most of the girls and about half of the boys. I figured that would be enough to get me onto the team and settled into a comfortable jog. No point in killing myself when it didn’t matter, a philosophy I’d adopted for school in general.
I crossed the finish line in tenth place behind a couple of Grade Eleven boys who quickly doubled over, gasping for air. I loped over to the jug of water and poured myself a cup before I circled the track one more time to cool down. I wasn’t winded at all.
When I passed by Mr. Jacks and Miss Po on my way to go home, Miss Po smiled at me and said, “See you Monday for practice. We start at seven thirty. Congratulations on making the team.”
“Try to be on time Monday, Bannon,” Mr. Jacks barked. “No junk food this weekend. The meet is in two weeks, and you need to start getting into shape.”
I saluted and kept on jogging towards the street. Sometimes, it’s best not to say what you’re thinking. I slowed down when I reached the sidewalk and turned to walk home. I had my head down and was deciding what I’d make Dad for supper. He’d promised to be on time tonight. I could whip up some pasta and sauce without any trouble. Mr. Jacks ought to approve of that.
Without warning, I felt a hand on my back between my shoulder blades. My whole body stiffened, and I let out a scream. I spun around, raising one arm to strike my attacker. Evan Quinn’s smile disappeared when he saw my frightened face. He quickly lowered his hand from where he’d held it on my back a second before.
“I’m so sorry, Jennifer. I never meant to scare you,” he said. “I’m really sorry.”
I slumped in relief. “No problem, Evan. You just surprised me, that’s all.” I lowered my arm too. “What are you doing here?”
“I just thought I might walk you home. It’s getting dark and . . . well, if you don’t mind some company.”
I started walking back towards home. “Okay,” I said. It was getting dark. The tree branches had lengthened into long shadowy fingers on the street, and the air was getting chillier. I stopped and faced him. “How did you know I’d be here?”
Evan met my eyes. “You mentioned the tryouts last week. I watched you cross the finish line, by the way. You weren’t even breathing hard.”
“I might have held something back.” I smiled and really looked at him for the first time. His face was pale, and he had dark circles under his eyes. I turned and started walking again.
“Where were you all week?” I asked.
“Toronto.” He paused. “I had a some, uh, stuff to do.”
“Is everything okay?”
He answered quickly. “Sure, no worries. Did I miss much biology or English homework?”
“A few things,” I said. “If you want, I could lend you my notes when we get to my house.”
“Sounds good,” Evan said. “I haven’t got much on tonight and can go through them at home.”
I made a sudden decision. “Would you like to have supper with Dad and me? I’m making pasta.”
“That would be great,” Evan said. “I like pasta. Are you sure, though?”
“Yeah. Dad will love talking cars with you, and I always like trying out my recipes on new tastebuds.”
I knew I shouldn’t trust Evan Quinn, but for some reason, I didn’t buy the rumours that painted him as a drug-pushing addict. The stories didn’t add up. Until facts proved otherwise, I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.
CHAPTER TEN
Dad was in the living room with his feet up on the coffee table, reading a book on car engines. He looked relaxed in jeans and a red and white plaid shirt rolled up at the sleeves. Wet hair meant he’d just come out of the shower. When he saw me, he smiled and the tiredness softened around his eyes.
“Hey, Jenny bear. I thought you’d been spending too much time alone, so I told Tyson Palmer he’d have to wait until tomorrow afternoon for his Camaro. I’ve ordered pizza and picked up a movie rental. Are you in the mood for comedy?”
“Sounds good, Dad,” I said as I motioned for Evan to come into the living room. He’d been standing out of sight in the hallway. “I’ve brought a friend home. Dad, meet Evan Quinn. His family’s new in Springhills.”
Dad stood and reached out to shake Evan’s hand. Evan shook Dad’s hand firmly and looked him square in the eyes. “How do you do, sir?” Evan asked.
“You can call me Mark,” Dad said. “Where do you come from?”
The twenty million dollar question. I looked at Evan and wondered what city he’d name.
Evan’s eyes were making a sweep of the living room. “We move around a lot.” He pointed to a picture of me and Leslie on the wall. It had been taken the summer before when we were visiting my grandmother. “I didn’t know you had a sister,” he said.
Dad and I exchanged glances. I said, “That’s Leslie. She’s living with Mom and her new husband in Los Angeles.”
The doorbell rang. “Pizza’s here,” Dad said.
“I’ll pour some milk,” I said. “Let’s go sit in the kitchen, Evan.”
“Cool,” Evan said.
Dad divided up the pizza and served it around the kitchen table. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was as I bit into the first piece.
Evan wolfed down a piece and said, “Good pizza. I haven’t had any since I got to Springhills.”
“Have you tried any of our restaurants?” Dad asked. “The Butternut Diner next to Bill’s Hardware has the best food in town.”
Evan shook his head. He was chewing on another piece. “My sister and I aren’t much for eating out.”
I could see Evan’s collarbone jutting from above the collar of his sweatshirt, which was faded and frayed at the seams. Maybe his family was poorer than I’d thought. Still, poverty didn’t fit in with the rumoured family crime business and the car he’d been driving.
“Do you still have that Lamborghini Spider?” I asked.
Dad’s head snapped up. “You own a Lamborghini?”
“No. That is, I don’t own it. A friend leant it to me for the week.”
I could have sworn Evan had told me he’d had it just for the afternoon. I opened my mouth to ask but decided not to. Chances were he wouldn’t answer anyway.
“Nice friend,” Dad said. “What’s it have under the hood? A V-10?”
Evan nodded, his blonde hair flopping into his eyes. The two of them launched into engine talk I couldn’t follow even if I’d wanted to. Evan looked at me a few times apologetically, but Dad was so thrilled to have someone to talk with who seemed to know as much about cars as he did that he wasn’t going to miss the opportunity. I nodded a couple of times then tuned them out.
After we’d finished the last morsel of pizza, I stood to gather up our plates. At the same time, Uncle Phil opened the back door and bounded into the kitchen. He was carrying a box of doughnuts that he plunked down on the table. “I thought I was bringing appetizers, but I see you’ve already dined,” he said. Uncle Phil had started growing a beard that gave him a masculine, rugged look. The nurses would be lining up in droves.
“Hey, Uncle Phil. Meet Evan Quinn,” I said.
Uncle Phil looked at Evan. “Don’t I know you from
somewhere?”
Evan shrugged. “Maybe you’ve seen me around Spring-hills.”
“No, that’s not it,” Uncle Phil said. “I have a memory for faces. Give me time, and I’ll remember.”
I glanced at Evan, who had an uncomfortable expression on his face. “Evan’s in my biology and English classes,” I said quickly. “He lives with his sister . . . where is your house, Evan?”
“We’re on Oakdale Road.”
“Isn’t that the new subdivision going out of town towards Toronto?” Dad asked. “Some big houses there.”
Evan shrugged again. “We’re just renting a bungalow from a family who wanted somebody to live there while they’re overseas. Nice, but nothing special.”
Uncle Phil turned a chair around and straddled the seat. He folded open the cardboard box and motioned for us to take a doughnut. I reached for my favourite, a cherry cruller.
Evan said, “No thanks.”
“Your dad’s moving here soon though, right?” I asked, trying to remember what he’d told me about his family.
“He’ll be here in a week or two. His latest project should wrap up then.”
“Is your dad in sales?” Dad asked. The question the town had been dying to ask.
A slow blush crept up Evan’s cheeks. “You could say that.” He looked over at me. “This has been great, Jennifer, but if I could borrow your notes, I should be heading home. I have a bit of catching up to do before tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I said, popping the last of my doughnut into my mouth and rubbing my hand on my pant leg. Evan followed me as I went into my bedroom to get the notes from my desk. He leaned against the door jamb and looked around. I’d actually made my bed and picked up clothes that had been accumulating on the floor, so it could have been worse. “My room’s a work in progress,” I said.
“I know that feeling,” Evan said. “I like your room. It reflects your personality. It’s got a warm and . . . happy feel.”
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