Cammie Takes Flight

by Laura Best

  “I want you to leave,” I state in a business-like manner. When Ed hits a pothole in the road, I tumble forward.

  “Get off me, Cammie,” groans the soft mass I’ve landed into.

  I suck in air so fast my lungs ache. “Evelyn!” I scramble to my feet. Bandages are wrapped around his head like they were the day I visited him in the hospital. Now I know something’s fishy.

  “You don’t need bandages. You’re better now. I saw you just yesterday. We said goodbye at our secret camp!”

  “Secret camp? Look who’s keeping secrets now,” says Aunt Millie. Her voice tells me she’s got that owly look about her—head tilted to one side, her eyes big and round. I don’t need to be up close to her to know that look.

  When Evelyn starts shaking all over, I cry for Aunt Millie to help. But she laughs like we’re part of some funny play she’s watching.

  “Stop the truck, Ed!” I slap my hand on the roof of the cab. Ed steps on the gas and the truck speeds on. “Stop the truck! We’re going to run off the road! Ed! Ed!” We race down the road on the back of Ed’s truck—Evelyn, Aunt Millie, old Hux Wagner, and me. I’m screaming for Ed to stop but no sound comes out. This isn’t how my new life is supposed to go!

  I sit up in bed, panting and gasping from the same dream that’s been waking me up most every night. Tears running down my cheeks, I can hear someone whispering “Cammie, wake up” in my ear. I reach for the pull-chain to snap on the light, but can’t find it. I keep swatting the air. “Cammie, are you okay?”

  Slowly I come to my senses. Three weeks and you’d think I’d remember not to reach for the light, that I’m not back home in my old bedroom. Jennie’s warm hand traces the stream of tears to my chin.

  “I’m fine,” I say, pushing her hand away. I quickly wipe the water from my face. I can’t figure out how she finds me in the dark. I guess when you’re totally blind, nighttime doesn’t stop you from getting around. If I were in her shoes, not able to see a thing, I’d never leave my bed—guaranteed.

  I roll onto my side and try to go back to sleep. My chest makes two quick heaves and I snuff the snot back up my nose in the way that annoys the pants off Aunt Millie. Tears are building behind my eyes again, but I’m not about to let the dam burst open. Finally I sit up in bed, and I picture my bedroom back home in Tanner; the way the full moon comes up over the trees and shines across my bed. I think about the night Evelyn climbed in through my bedroom window. But then right away I remember it was the same night his pa got drunk and chased him out of the house with the shotgun. A gulp of air gets caught in my throat and I don’t know how to get it out. I can’t stop thinking about Evelyn, all those days he spent in the hospital out cold. He wouldn’t have blown up Hux’s moonshine still if it hadn’t been for me. Now I’m in the city living a new life while he’s stuck back in Tanner. I give a big sigh. What I wouldn’t give to spend a day at our secret camp by the river, just Evelyn and me.

  Flopping back onto the bed, I stare up at the ceiling and try to put my mind on other things. Reaching under my mattress, I pull the envelope out and hold it close. If it wasn’t for the letter she wrote Aunt Millie years ago, I wouldn’t have a clue about where to start my search for mother dearest. Too bad Aunt Millie burned the letter when I was a kid, like she didn’t think I’d be interested in hearing what my mother had to say. At least I have the envelope—not much, but something. Burnham Street, Halifax, Nova Scotia, big as you please, written on the envelope I’ve been carrying around with me since forever, still with no plans of how I’m going to get there. It’s not like I can just up and walk there. Heck, I wouldn’t even make it out the front door without getting caught. I’ve got time on my side, though. A whole school year if need be. And with nearly twelve years of biding my time, I’ll wait as long as I have to. Sooner or later, opportunity will come knocking at my door.

  Putting the envelope back in its hiding place, I turn toward the wall and swallow the hard lump in my throat. I never in a million years thought I’d miss anything about my old life back in Tanner. You can dress your life up all you want, forget about who you used to be, but getting rid of the past isn’t as easy as taking off your dirty old underwear and kicking it under the bed.

  Chapter Three

  “Telephone call for Vanessa Maxwell.”

  Not again! I blow a ball of air out of my mouth. Figures she’d be the one getting all the telephone calls. Must be nice to be that important. Someone called for her just the other day, too. As Nessa breezes out past the bunks, the girls in the dorm coo and go on something wicked.

  “What do you want to bet it’s Frankie Parker on the other end of that line?” says Jane, giggling that high-pitched laugh of hers. Frankie Parker—now that’s a ridiculous statement if I ever heard one. The school keeps the boys and girls as far apart as they can. If they could use a ten-foot pole for a marker they probably would. The boys sit on the other side of the classroom, and when we change classes they’ve got their own side of the hallway, too. Dining room—it’s the same deal. Dormitory—forget it, they’re on the other side of the building. They even have their own playground. Get caught hanging out near the fence and you’re likely to get booted out of there in a hurry. And if all that isn’t enough, there’s only one pay station in the entire school. There’s no way Frankie Parker, or any other boy for that matter, could call. Impossible.

  “You can’t be serious,” I say to Jane. If you’re making a statement you’d best be prepared to back it up with proof.

  The dorm rings with laughter like it’s a big joke on me. The girls back in Tanner used to laugh whenever I was within earshot—mean laughs that told me I’d never belong in their group. Not here too, I want to cry, the only place in the world I ever thought I’d fit in. For a moment my face stings like a cut rolled in iodine, but then Jennie motions for me to come close. My heart expands and sighs with relief. It wasn’t a mean-spirited laugh after all.

  I scooch on over to Jennie’s bed while the other girls close in on us. She smells like the lavender powder her grandmother sent her last week. I look over the top of her brown head—naturally curly. The maids complain about how hard it is to comb, but I’d do anything to have hair like that. Resisting the urge to touch it, I snap back to attention. Jennie’s about to let me in on a well-kept secret. I don’t need any distractions. She tells me to cross my heart and hope to die and stick a needle in my eye. I’m not going to go sticking a needle in my eye or hoping to die at my age, but I go along with the promise because I’m anxious to get the real scoop.

  “Is the coast clear?” asks Jennie before continuing.

  Tammy looks toward the doorway and gives the all-clear.

  “The boys sneak out and use the pay phone down at the corner. But you can’t tell a living soul. Not now. Not ever.”

  Right away my logical mind is saying that’s next to impossible. A mouse couldn’t sneak out of here. I’m sure of it. I look around at the faces in front of me. Tammy’s nodding and smiling like a pumpkin grinner. For a few moments I’m not sure what to think. That’s when it finally hits me.

  “Yeah, right. Sneak out of the school! You just about had me there.” I fall back on the bed laughing like a loon.

  “Jennie’s telling the truth,” pipes in Amy. Amy doesn’t strike me as the type to make up stories.

  “At least we get to talk with the boys that way,” says Tammy.

  “Joe Banks used to call me last year,” says Amy, like maybe that makes her the envy of everyone here. Me, I could envy her for her height alone—the tallest girl in our dorm even in her stocking feet.

  “Hey, he called me, too!” says Vicki with a giggle.

  “He’s got a whiny voice,” says Amy, pinching her nose while she talks, “and keeps saying, ‘Isn’t it so…isn’t it so.’” It’s Amy’s turn to laugh this time.

  While the girls jabber on about the boys, I’m making a quick calculation of
this juicy bit of information. This is the very thing I’ve been hoping for. So, there is a way out of here! I want to throw my arms into the air and shout for joy. I’ll find my mother yet. Knowing there’s a way for me to get the very thing I want spreads a grin out across my face. Things are looking up for Cammie Turple.

  ---

  Sometimes you need to keep your plans in the hatching stage for a time. You’ve got to let them ripen to the point where they’re ready to pop on their own. Determination has mighty long legs. It brought me all the way to Halifax. A few more steps and it might just take me to Burnham Street, and land me right on my mother’s doorstep. Too bad there’s only a street name on the envelope. But I’ll knock on doors if I have to. Someone living on that street must know her. One way or another I’ll track her down and have it out with her, find out why she dumped me out with a bootlegger and walked away. Finally, I’ll get the answers to all my questions.

  A year ago I wouldn’t have imagined any of this was possible. I was just a kid bellyaching about hard times and hoping things would work out all on their own. Nothing ever works out without you doing something about it. Now, that’s something I learned from Evelyn Merry. After we took matters into our own hands, I found out Ed was my real father, Aunt Millie stopped selling moonshine, and Evelyn’s pa even got himself straightened out. Who knew that under all the moonshine was a respectable man all clean-shaven and dapper? Too bad his other son getting drowned turned him into a miserable human being all those years before. Aunt Millie said being faced with losing another son brought Jim Merry back to his own good senses. Every once in a while Aunt Millie knows what she’s talking about.

  This whole business about the boys sneaking their way out of the school plays on my mind the rest of the evening. While it means escape is possible, I’m not sure I could slip out all on my own without getting caught. Not to mention that I don’t have a clue as to where Burnham Street is or how to get there. Tanner might be small, but at least I can make my way around even with my bad eyes. Halifax is a whole other story. How can I find anything in this big old city with only me, myself, and I to figure it out? Everything’s so new. I’m just getting used to the inside of the school, figuring out what everything is and how to get where I want to go. The buildings here are tall and the streets all look the same. I’d be lost in no time. While I’m anxious to find my mother, I’ve got to slow down and think this through.

  I start to wonder if one of the boys would be willing to help me out. Seeing as how I don’t know a single one of them, I’m not at all sure. Last week a ball of paper skidded across my desk in Mrs. Christi’s classroom. Careful not to make any noise, I straightened out the wrinkles and held it up to read—all that without missing a spelling word. I quickly found out the note was for Vicki and it was from Henry Fields, which was probably a good thing since he’s all Vicki talks about. No wonder she’d get a note. While I’m not one for commenting on people’s looks, I’ve heard what the other girls have to say—that Vicki could pass for Vivien Leigh’s daughter. Not just anyone gets compared to a Hollywood starlet.

  With Mrs. Christi being as blind as a newborn kitten, maybe a note will work for me. But what would I write? “I need to get out of here and find my mother who lives on Burnham Street” sounds dumb and “Can you get me out of here?” sounds like a note of desperation. With a bit of thought I can come up with just the right words. I know I can. But will the boys even let me in on this escape route of theirs? Could be it’s top secret. And they might not want to help out a stranger for free.

  For now, I’ll have to let this idea of sneaking out of the school simmer a little longer. Back home, Evelyn and me would put our heads together and come up with a plan. But I’m a Turple and that means I’ve got plenty of ingenuity, and sooner or later I’ll think of something. I’ve waited for nearly twelve years to find my mother. What’s a few more days going to hurt?

  Chapter Four

  “I’ll stand guard,” I say, zipping toward the doorway. Nessa’s just made the grand announcement that it’s time to get out the spirit board.

  “You’re going to miss out on the fun,” giggles Jennie, rocking back and forth on the bed. “Aren’t you the least bit curious? I mean, talking to ghosts. I’ve got goose bumps just thinking about it.” Her laughter is as twisted as a peppermint stick, like she’s thrilled and scared all at the same time. I don’t know why she’s so all-fired excited about this séance business. It’s not like she’ll be able to see what’s going on. But I can’t point that out to her. No one wants you stating their shortcomings.

  One thing I’ll say, Jennie can sure make you forget that she’s blind. She’s no slouch when it comes to manual training class. She can knit slicker than those of us who can see. And she’s not all the time asking for help, neither. I don’t think she ever drops a stitch. Me, I’ve dropped more stitches than I’ve knitted. I try picking them up without Mrs. Willow’s help, but dropped stitches are hard to see. If things don’t improve, I’m going to see about trying something else. Knitting’s not the only thing they’ve got here. I could take up crocheting, maybe even learn to make baskets. There’s got to be something I’m good at.

  “I see what I need to do in my head and then I just go do it,” Jennie said, showing me the doll she’d just knitted. I told her that took both brains and talent, and there’s probably hope for all of us here.

  “You go ahead. Someone has to keep watch,” I say, ignoring the look of disappointment on Jennie’s face. Talking to the dead sounds like it might be fun, but what does Nessa really know about the spirit world? Evelyn, he’d be right up for it. No questions asked. But then, he’s been seeing his dead brother since he was small. I’m not nearly as brave as Evelyn.

  Miss Turner made her rounds a few minutes ago. It’ll be some time before I hear the clicking of her shoes in the hallway. She’s probably in the supervisor’s lounge right about now. She shouldn’t be back until lights out if everything goes as planned. But this whole séance business could end up being a flop. Not that I won’t feel happy if Nessa gets herself caught up in a big snag and carted off to Mr. Allen’s office to do some explaining.

  The girls are chattering like chipmunks. Me, I’m in position by the doorway staring out at the bare walls. And then, one voice rises to the surface like a burp after a great big meal. Before you know it, Nessa’s telling everyone what to do and where to stand. Leaning against the door with a good view of the hallway, I’m glad not to be bossed around by Nessa. Arms crossed in front of me, I take the opportunity to peek over my shoulder. Nessa marches over to her wardrobe and opens the door.

  She sure didn’t waste any time proving me wrong. As promised, she snuck the spirit board to school on Monday morning when her father dropped her off for the week. She agreed to have a séance on Friday, but the girls kept begging her to take it out before then.

  “I said Friday and I meant Friday,” Nessa said, like she enjoyed having something to dangle in front of everyone.

  All week long the dorm has been like a beehive, with everyone buzzing about what all they’ll ask the board when or if Nessa gives them a chance. Most questions concern the boys: who likes who, and all that silly stuff I don’t go in for. Some of them plan on asking dumb things like the name of their dog or what their favourite colour is. I say if you’re going to be pestering ghosts, you’d best have something of the utmost importance on your mind. So for that reason I’ve got no interest—not to mention the board belongs to Nessa. Besides, who’s to say the whole thing isn’t a bunch of malarkey? A board that can answer every question you could think of asking, even see into your future before it’s happened—I have to wonder if that’s possible. I mean, if it is, you might just as well sit back and let life happen. No sense in coming up with any plans of your own.

  “Time to see how many spirits are out there,” Nessa says like the expert she’s convinced everyone she is. She tells me to turn out the lights so we can c
reate the right atmosphere. “Ghosts don’t like it too bright. That’s why they only come out at night.”

  I’m not sure what all ghosts like and what they don’t, but I turn off the lights because not only am I keeping guard but I’m also a whisker away from the switch. I’ve got no excuse. A series of protests ring out as soon as everything becomes dim.

  “I can’t see the letters on the board.”

  “Get in closer.”

  “There’s not enough light.”

  “Wait till your eyes adjust. And quiet down or you’ll scare the ghosts away. They don’t like loud noises, either.”

  Everyone hushes. The expert has spoken.

  “I still can’t see,” someone whispers.

  “Fine, then. We’ll leave the lights on,” Nessa snaps. I laugh to myself as I hit the switch again. Nessa thinking she can pull off a séance here at the school—as if.

  “It’s time to warm up the board,” states Nessa. “We’ll ask some easy questions to begin with, ones we know the answer to. As a test.”

  Nessa and Tammy are the first to have a go. “Oohs” and “aahs” vibrate in the air as soon as they start shooting the question at the spirit board. Good grief. Like none of us knew today was Friday and that we ate fish for supper. Fish is always served on Friday. Even a dead person should know that much. Wouldn’t you think someone could come up with some important questions? I’d be asking things like: What’s the meaning of life? and Do babies that die before they’re baptized get a free pass into heaven? Instead of that all-important question, Will Frankie Parker sneak a kiss from Nessa at the Christmas dance? I can’t believe Tammy just asked that. Before Nessa has time to find out the answer, there comes a loud thump inside the dorm. Confusion erupts like a volcano, and in no time flat a racket breaks out. I can’t make sense of what’s going on until Tammy cries out that Jennie’s having another one of her fits. A gaggle of girls come running toward me, squealing and yelling like banshees.