Blue Vengeance (13 page)

 

The next day, after a lunch of potato salad and ham, Danny walked along with Russell to the little house at the end of Lyndale Drive. He liked that he and Janine lived on the same street, even though their houses were some distance apart.

She was in her backyard mowing the small patch of lawn. The push mower clattered quietly in the still afternoon.

When Danny approached, she stopped, and a smile lit up her face.

“You have green eyes,” he said. “I never noticed before.”

“Yes, I do.”

“So green.”

He sat on the stoop and watched her while she finished up the yard. A belt held up her cutoffs today. Maybe her dad had noticed how much of her you could see. There was a Yogi Bear decal sewn on one of the pockets now and what looked like part of a bracelet sewn on another. It sparkled in the sun.

“I like the way you sew extra stuff onto your clothes,” Danny said.

“Thanks. We have a sewing machine that belonged to my mum. It was just kind of sitting there so I figured I'd learn how to use it. I'm just starting; it's fun. The beads and stuff I sew on by hand.”

This was the first time Danny had heard any mention of a mum. He wanted to ask questions but decided to let it go for now. She probably needed some time to come to terms with having told him so much about her dad the day before.

After she put the mower away in the rickety old shed, they started walking towards the Red Top. He thought it might be nice to treat her to a root beer; he had money in his pocket. But everybody and their dog would be there. Literally. Dogs came. Besides, the Red Top was more for popular kids.

Russell ran on ahead, and they walked along, knocking into each other every so often. Danny couldn't seem to keep his limbs to himself. Dot had mentioned that morning that he was shooting up like a weed, and he knew it was true. He could feel it; his bones hurt from all the growing.

He wanted Janine to talk. She was still his friend; she had told him her biggest secret (as far as he knew — he supposed she could have a bigger one). But it was possible the friendship had new limits that he didn't know about yet. He still felt as though it had been shaken to its roots.

“Do you ever go to the Red Top?” he said.

“Nah, the Red Top's for losers. Let's turn here, so we don't have to see them laughing their idiot heads off.”

He began to wonder if Janine was lacking in friends. It hadn't occurred to him before.

“I'm worried that I might be famous for hatin' Miss Hardass even if I haven't been goin' around talkin' about it. As well as for my slingshot skills.”

He hadn't meant to say it yet, but there it was.

“Christ. You and your famousness,” said Janine. “You really find a lot of things to worry about, don't you?”

“Well, they're legitimate worries.”

She reached over and tousled his hair. “You know some big words for a kid.”

Danny shook off her touch.

“Everybody hates Hardass,” said Janine.

“Not as much as I do.”

“Some do.”

Danny couldn't believe that. And he didn't like that she had said it. No one's hate was as big as his, and he had thought Janine knew that. Tears threatened. He couldn't cry, especially after having his hair tousled.

Janine saw his tears; he felt her see them with a sideways look.

“Let me tell you another Hardass story,” she said.

“Okay.”

He glanced around to make sure no one was watching them, that none of the losers from the Red Top were following along behind. Nothing ever felt allowable about what they did, no matter what it was. It felt right, for the most part, but not allowable.

“It was in gym class again. A kid had an accident. Most of us were leaping around playing basketball, and all of a sudden Hardass blew her whistle. We all stopped in our tracks. She loves doing that. If you don't stop in your tracks when she blows her whistle, you have to do laps. God, I'd like to shove that whistle so far up her ass it comes out one of her eyes.”

“Okay, so it's not about Cookie,” Danny said, more to himself than Janine.

“No. So we're all standing there waiting for whatever dumb thing she's going to say, and she tells Morven Rankin to step forward, which she does. Then she tells her to turn around in a circle. By this time we've all pretty much seen what's going on.”

“I know who Morven Rankin is,” Danny said. “She's the unfortunate girl.”

“Yeah. Morv's strange, but she's all right. And she sure doesn't need Hardass on her case. Anyway, there's a red patch on her white shorts between her legs. She had started her period.”

“Oh.”

Danny felt his ears turn red. He knew about periods. There had been a big to-do when Cookie'd had her first one, involving her not being prepared. All he could remember of his mother's involvement was irritation. It was Danny who went to Wade's to pick up the equipment. He wore his baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses and waited till there was no one in the store except Mr. Wade and Ross, the pharmacist. Ross served him.

Danny said, “Stuff for a period, please.”

Ross said, “Pardon?”

“Stuff for a period. For a girl.”

“Oh. Sure thing.” Ross raised a finger. “Hang on, and I'll get you set up.”

He gathered together a few items, put them in a bag, and charged it to Mrs. Blue's account, without asking how Danny wanted to pay. When he handed the bag over the counter he smiled and said, “You're a good man, Danny Blue.”

Danny had brought cash and was disappointed that Ross recognized him through his disguise, but grateful that it went as smoothly as it did. It could have been so much worse: Ross could have had a harder time figuring out what he was talking about; kids from school could have come in and noticed what he was buying and tortured him forever; the store could have been out of the sinister supplies, meaning he'd have to go further afield. Also, he had worried that Ross would refuse to sell him the stuff, like he did when kids came in for cigarettes and doobs.

At least Cookie had been at home when it happened. It was a disaster, but a private one, except for Ross, and he was obviously accustomed to periods and probably worse.

Danny still didn't know all there was to know about them, and that was fine with him. It didn't seem like the kind of thing he had to concern himself with yet, if ever.

But here was Janine, merrily talking as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it was at her house, but certainly not at his.

He pictured going home, walking into the living room, and saying,
period
. He wondered if that would be enough to open his mum's eyes wide. If it wasn't, he could say,
menstrual period
. He'd have to do it when Dot wasn't there.

“What's so funny?” said Janine.

“Nothing.”

“Anyway, Hardass berates Morven and calls her a filthy, ignorant girl and tells her to go to the change room and hose herself down. That's what she said.
Hose yourself down
. Like she was talking about a car or an elephant. Poor Morv finally got it and looked down at herself. And guess what happened then.”

“What?”

“She fainted.”

“What was Cookie doin' during all of this?” Danny said.

His pleasure in knowing that it wasn't his sister's predicament was like a golden apple resting in the palm of his hand. On this occasion she had been safe, separate from the nightmare unfolding for another girl. He felt bad for Morven, but from a distance.

Janine turned to look at him.

“I don't know,” she said. “This story isn't about Cookie. What I'm trying to get across is that way more people than just you and me would be happy if something bad happened to Hardass. Can you imagine if Morven's brother had walked by the gym and witnessed that scene the way you saw the thing with Cookie? For all we know, he did and he just didn't show himself, and right now him and Morven are planning their own revenge.”

Danny tried to digest the story. He had trouble picturing it happening to Morven. It was always Cookie, and the red was huge and running down her pale unsteady legs.

“That's a very unpleasant story,” he said.

“Yeah, I know, but I had a point I wanted to make.”

They'd arrived at the river. They sat down in the grass and watched the miniature kids on the other side, messing around near the water.

“Danny?”

“Yeah?”

“You need more than one friend.”

“Is that so?”

He felt, as he had so often lately, that if not for certain body parts holding him in, he would have slid out all over the ground.

“Are you sayin' this because of all the stupid questions I ask?” he said.

“No.”

“Why then?”

“Because it only makes sense.”

“How?”

“Well, for one thing, what if the one friend up and dies?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

He knew she was right. What if she hadn't come along after Paul had deserted him?

“You're not dyin', are you?”

“No, I'm not dying. It's just…it's good to spread yourself around a little.”

He didn't want to spread himself around at all.

“I'll get back to havin' friends after the Miss Hardass thing is over.”

Friends would get in the way now. How could she not see that?

“I have to get goin'.” He stood up.

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Is it because of what I said?”

“No.”

“Why, then?”

“I told Dot I'd help her beat rugs.”

She seemed to accept that.

A familiar lump had formed inside his chest, like a good-sized sweet crabapple — not a small sour one.

“I'll walk you,” said Janine.

Boys were supposed to walk girls home, not the other way around. Her offer drove home the fact that she didn't think of him as a guy, not in the Rock Sand sense of the word. But she would; she had to. He could wait out Rock Sand.

“Do you wanna come back for supper?” he said when they approached his house.

He didn't want to lose her.

“We have full-fledged meals when my aunt's here.”

“Are you sure you want me to?”

“Yeah.”

“Won't everybody mind?”

“No way. My mum might not even see you, and Aunt Dot is a farm wife. She's used to makin' loads of food and havin' visitors. They've even got hired hands who she cooks for.”

“Okay then.”

So…he had a future.

 

Danny tossed two mats over the railing of the stoop to add credence to his rug-beating story.

“Just airing one or two things out,” he said to Dot when he saw the questioning look on her face.

It was just mid-afternoon so Danny headed out again after telling Dot that he had invited Janine for supper. He found a secluded spot and sat staring out at the river. The day was cloudy, but the trees still cast their shadows on the water. It was, as always, travelling towards downtown. Here and there it looked as if it was going nowhere, but still, it moved. Those must be the spots where the current came into play — the current that everyone went on about — the one that caused one person a year to drown. Cookie was this year's person.

 

The banging on the back door had sent the toast clear out of Danny's hand onto the kitchen floor. Before either he or his mother could respond the door slammed open, and a soaking wet Frank Foote gasped, “Call an ambulance. It's Cookie. She was in the river.”

They stood mute for what seemed a long time when Danny remembered it later. He worried that he hadn't acted fast enough. Neither of them had known that she wasn't in her bed. His mum pointed to the telephone in the hallway, and Frank lurched forward to make the call, drenching the floor with river water. A puppy was suddenly scrambling around the kitchen making squeaking sounds. Frank's puppy. Danny was out the door in his pajamas and bare feet, at the riverbank in seconds. He couldn't find her at first, not till Frank caught up and pointed a little further downstream. Then he saw her. She was on her front at the bottom of the bank, barely out of the water. Frank must have dragged her in and turned her head to the side, eyes to the river. Danny slid down and tried to look at her face. If he could just have pushed the swollen river aside. It kept getting in his way.

Barbara Blue stood at the top of the riverbank staring down, and Frank joined Danny at the bottom. He still had streams of water on his face — tears or river or both. He moved forward to help, and they turned her over.

Cookie's wide-open eyes and blue lips shook him, but Danny began mouth-to-mouth respiration. He had learned it at the Sherbrook Pool, where he had earned his intermediate badge last winter. Her lips felt like cold rubber, like cold inner tube.

“The ambulance is coming,” Frank said.

Danny kept on.

Cookie was wearing her housecoat with deep, buttoned pockets. There were buttons up the front too. Danny was glad of that. If she had been wearing one with a tie it might have opened and come off, and she might have been naked, and Frank would have seen her, and the ambulance men would see her, and he would see her.
Cookie
. He kept on with the mouth to mouth.

Frank put a hand on his shoulder.

“I can hear the ambulance, Danny. Help is almost here.”

He heard his mum say, “She has a hole in her heart,” as though that had something to do with anything.

The ambulance men told Danny and Frank to stand back, and they worked over Cookie for a minute or two.

“I'm sorry, boys,” said one and he headed up the bank to where Barbara Blue stood waiting.

Danny fell to his knees by his sister and pressed his face into the soaked terry cloth that covered her narrow chest. She smelled of the river. He wedged a hand under each side of her and hung on. A keening sound escaped from inside him, and Frank knelt down and put a hand on his back.

The ambulance man struggled back down the embankment with a stretcher.

Danny didn't want to let her go. If he let her go she would be gone. He wanted to stay with her at the river, at least until he died.

“Danny?” His mum's voice wafted down.

“I'll go,” Frank said. “You'll be okay?”

“Mmph,” he said.

 

Sometimes it occurred to Danny to go over to Frank's house and stand next to him, the boy who tried to save her. But he couldn't do it; not now, anyway, these days when so many of his thoughts ran towards destruction. He felt himself too great a contrast to Frank Foote, who did such a first-rate job of caring for his own doomed sister.

He thought about how blue Frank had been from the icy water of the Red and wondered if they had thanked him enough. He had even had the presence of mind to shut his puppy up in their house till the ambulance had taken Cookie away. No lights, no siren.

 

She had begun drawing nooses and daggers in the margins of her scribblers during the last months of her life. Other things too. Danny often didn't know what they were; she wasn't a very good drawer. But they all had to do with pain and death. Droplets of blood. Whose blood? Her own, Miss Hartley's, their mother's?

One time he came upon her as she was drawing a big squarish object with saw-toothed edges on two sides.

“What's that?” he said.

“A razor blade.”

“Why are you drawing razor blades?”

“It's not razor blades. It's
a
razor blade. And I'm drawing it because in art class Mr. Loepky told us to draw a picture of the World Series.”

Gillette advertised during the World Series games so it made sense in an odd sort of way. Drawing a razor blade was easier than drawing a ball player or bleachers full of fans, or even a bat or a ball. But it still didn't sit well with him. When she got out her watercolours and dipped her brush in red paint, he was sure she was going to add blood to the blade. He breathed a sigh of relief when she carefully printed
How're Ya Fixed For Blades?
at the bottom of the page.

It was Gillette's slogan. But did it have to be red?

He headed back up to the drive now, home to Dot's Sunday roast and to their dinner guest.

When Janine arrived her hair was nicely combed, and Danny caught a whiff of flowery shampoo when he greeted her at the gate.

He took her inside and introduced her to Aunt Dot, who greeted her and said, “Do your folks know you won't be home for supper, dear?”

“Yes, ma'am. It's just my dad, and he says to thank you very much.”

“Well, you tell him that you're most welcome. We're happy to have you. Maybe next time your dad can come too.”

Danny blushed. He hadn't thought to anticipate all the things Dot might say to embarrass him while Janine was there. Up to now, he had left all talk of
next time
s to Janine.

“It smells great in here,” she said.

“That's the roast,” said Dot. “We're about ready to sit down. Danny, take Janine in to meet your mum, and I'll get everything on the table.”

Danny hadn't bargained on this. He and Janine went into the hall and he poked his head around the corner to see what sort of shape his mum was in. Her eyes were closed, and she didn't look too bad, but he didn't want these two parts of his life to intermingle. He didn't want his mum's sick aura to touch Janine. He made murmuring sounds for Dot's benefit, motioned to Janine to do the same, and then guided her back through the kitchen to the dining room.

The table was set for three.

“You can just slip into Danny's mum's place there, Janine,” said Dot. “She won't be joining us.”

“Well, isn't that a surprise,” said Danny. He was irritated with her for telling him to introduce Janine to his mum. He hadn't done it, but still.

Janine had two helpings of everything: roast beef, carrots and sweet onions that had been cooked around it, mashed potatoes and gravy, Yorkshire pudding, and apple brown betty for dessert. Aunt Dot gloried in watching her eat.

“Thanks, Aunt Dot,” Janine said, as she pushed away from the table. “That was one of the best meals I've ever had.”

Dot was flushed with pleasure. “You're so welcome, my dear. You must come again.”

Janine insisted on clearing up, and Danny helped. Dot went into the front room to sit with her sister. The kids left the kitchen spick and span.

“God, that was good,” said Janine before she left him at the lane.

He wanted her never to leave. He thought about walking her home but it seemed not quite suitable, seeing as she had walked him home earlier.