Delusion Road (32 page)

“Okay,” said Mr. Richardson, “now that you’ve all finished reading the novel—” He stopped, pointing to the calendar on the wall. “This being the deadline I gave you for finishing it, I’m working on the assumption that everyone has.”

There was a sudden chorus of emphatic “Sure”s and “You bet”s, and the teacher grinned before continuing. “As I said at the
beginning of this novel study, I asked you to pay attention to the rug motif that Buckler threaded throughout his narrative.”

“About that, Mr. R.,” Todd interjected. “I had a real problem with that Ellen character.”

“Problem? Why?”

“She was a grandmother, right?
Way
too old to be hooking.”

Willa noticed less of a response in the room than she’d have expected after a comment like that. The little laughter she heard seemed strained, almost obligatory. Perhaps everyone was sapped from the continued heat.

Or maybe people just didn’t think the Wynn Crowd was all that funny anymore.

Richardson ignored the comment. “Any other thoughts?”

Bailey put her hand up.

“Yes, Bailey?”

“Ellen uses bits of the characters’ worn-out clothes to make her rugs.”

“And what does that suggest?”

“That they’re kind of a physical representation of the way Buckler tells his story. The pieces of clothing are all woven together, and Buckler does the same thing with the lives of his characters. They’re all interconnected, like the pieces of clothing in Ellen’s rugs. Each piece reminds her of a particular moment in time, which got me thinking that, in a way, the novel is like one big rug, a patchwork of the experiences that made Buckler’s characters who they are.”

“Excellent point,” said the teacher, and Willa saw Celia roll her eyes at Britney.

“Does anyone have anything to add to that?” asked Richardson.

Glaring at Celia, Willa raised her hand.

“Willa?”

“Ellen always made her rugs out of scraps of things. She never used anything new, or anything whole.”

“Did that have any significance for you?”

Willa tried to ignore Britney murmuring to Celia behind her hand. “Nothing is ever completely gone. It might be worn or tattered, but a part of it always remains, like in Ellen’s rugs. Isn’t that the same with the characters in the story? So many of them are influenced by events in their past. It’s like they can’t shrug them off and move on. They’re continually shaped by them.”

“Another excellent observation.” The teacher looked toward the back of the room. “Yes, Wynn?”

“What Willa said. It made me think that maybe the rugs are bigger than just how they work in this story. They kind of represent the way our world is now.”

“How so?”

“The rugs show how all the characters are connected to each other, right? Doesn’t the Internet do the same thing?”

“Definitely, from a communication standpoint,” agreed the teacher. “Can you bring that analogy back to the novel?”

“I was thinking about the sites that people post stuff on. The things they write about themselves. And the things they write about others. They’re like the scraps that Ellen uses in her rugs.”

“In what way?”

“The rugs last, right? Even when the actual clothes are gone, the rugs are still there, so the pieces of those clothes are still
there. It’s the same way with web pages. Anything that somebody puts online is there forever. Even if they delete it, it’s still out there on a server somewhere, waiting for somebody else to uncover it, to find out stuff about them. Maybe even stuff they don’t want other people to know.”

There was something in his voice, something like the edge Willa had heard that day by his pool, and she turned to look at him, half-expecting to see him staring at her. But he wasn’t. He was looking at Keegan, his eyes burning a hole in the back of Keegan’s head.

And he was grinning.

“Do you want me to come with you?” asked Keegan amid the recess chatter in the corridor.

Willa shook her head, thinking about Mr. Caldwell. The vice-principal’s epic obsession with attendance and tardiness had grown even more pronounced during the past week. Because of the hot weather, a lot of students had been skipping classes, and Caldwell was even more vigilant about ferreting out offenders and assigning detentions. “I don’t know how long this’ll take,” she said. “My dad’ll write me a note if I’m going to be late getting back, but you could get into trouble.”

He nodded. “Any idea what he wants?”

She shook her head, glancing again at the text she’d just received:
can u come to dealrshp now?
She was hoping it had something to do with Wynn, that maybe they’d be able to go to the
police now, and she could see in Keegan’s eyes that he was thinking the same thing.

She reached into her bag and pulled out her math assignment. “Would you give this to Shedrand if I don’t make it back before the break ends?”

“Sure,” he said. Taking it from her, he leaned down and kissed her.

“Cripes, you two. Get a room.”

Willa turned and grinned at Russell’s mock grimace. The guy never failed to make her smile. Although they didn’t share any classes this semester, he usually managed to connect with them during their breaks, and she’d liked getting to know him, enjoyed his sense of humour. She wished she knew him better, though, because she’d been wanting to talk to him about his shirts. Like the one he wore today, which announced
When I go to the zoo, the elephants throw
me
peanuts.
She’d come to recognize them as his way of highlighting his size before anyone else could. She wanted to tell him that his size didn’t define him, that he had so much more going for him. Besides that great sense of humour, he had a natural empathy, always seeming to know how others were feeling. And it was easy to see how much he liked Raven. Unfortunately, for all his empathy, Russell seemed completely clueless that the feeling appeared mutual, and Willa had been waiting for an opportunity to tell him. And to let him know that those shirts weren’t necessary. He was so much more than any of those put-downs, something she wished she’d realized herself a long time ago.

Despite Russell’s protestation, Willa gave Keegan another
kiss, then hurried toward the exit. Four minutes later, she was pulling the SUV into the Valley Motors parking lot. “My dad around?” she asked Bob Hartley when she entered the showroom.

“In his office with a client.”

“I don’t want to interrupt, but he asked to see me.”

“I’ll let him know you’re here.” He stepped into his office and Willa watched through the glass as he picked up his phone and spoke into it.

In a moment, her father appeared in the showroom. “Thanks for coming, sweetheart,” he said, kissing her forehead. He took her hand and led her outside, the sun even more intense as it reflected off the rows of shiny new vehicles.

Her heart lifted at her father’s obvious need for privacy, and he seemed to read on her face the conclusion she had drawn. “Sorry, Willa, this isn’t about Wynn. I need your vehicle.”

“What for?”

“I have a client in my office who’s thinking of buying it. He wants to test-drive it today.”

She glanced at the seven brand-new, same-model SUVs lined up at the far end of the parking lot, two of them black like hers. “Why doesn’t he—”

“He’s specifically interested in yours.”

“How does he even know I have one?”

“Bob was talking to him initially. He may have said something about it. It’s fully loaded, so that’s probably what he’s looking for. If he likes it, he’s willing to pay the sticker price plus buy the extended warranty.”

That was a surprise. Because she’d been driving it, the guy
was entitled to the dealer discount. Wouldn’t he know that?

“Business being what it is,” said her father, “I can’t pass up the sale.”

“It’s okay,” she said, handing him the key. She was surprised by the way she felt as he took it from her. As much as she’d hated the SUV the day her father had given it to her, she’d come to enjoy driving it. A lot. She thought again about Russell and how easily perceptions of people and things could change when you gave them a chance.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out another key, a fob dangling from it bearing the words “Valley Motors Courtesy Car.” “Sorry, sweetheart. It’s the best I can do. None of the vehicles on the lot are ready for long-term right now. If you can wait around, though, I can get one of the guys to—”

“No problem,” she said. And it wasn’t. The Sonic that the dealership loaned to clients whose vehicles were in for repairs was perfectly adequate. Tiny, but adequate. “What?” she said as he stared at her.

“Just wondering who stole my daughter and replaced her with you,” he teased gently, obviously referring to her near-meltdown the first day of school.

She grinned and took the key from him. “Where’s it parked?”

“Around back by the service entrance.”

She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, then turned to cut through the showroom—if she hurried, she could just make it back before the bell. Heading down the hallway, she saw a large man in the doorway of her father’s office.

“Willa,” said her father behind her, “this is Mr. Forrester. He’s
the person who’s interested in your vehicle. Mr. Forrester, this is my daughter, Willa.”

She looked up. Way up. Built like a linebacker, the man towered above her, seeming to fill the space. At first glance, he looked to be in his late twenties, but there was something about him—the way his eyes flickered over her, maybe—that made her question that estimate. “Nice to meet you,” she said, holding out her hand, trying not to stare at the vivid scar that twisted diagonally from his chin to his right ear.

He took her hand but released it almost immediately, an odd expression on his face that Willa couldn’t interpret. “Same here,” he replied. “Sorry for any trouble I might be causin’ you.”

Willa thought she heard in his voice the trace of an accent. And he sounded younger than he looked. “No trouble at all,” she said.

“Much appreciated,” said the man, smiling. “I’ve been lookin’ for a long time, and you’ve got just what I’m after.”

As she turned to go, she had an odd feeling—there was something about his smile that seemed familiar, but she couldn’t remember what. It wasn’t until she was pulling into the schoolyard that it came to her. His smile looked like the one Wynn had worn in English class, as his eyes lasered the back of Keegan’s head.

They appeared to be waiting for her as she approached her locker. Willa hoped so. She was tired of the looks and the comments and the wedge that was Wynn solidly between them. Although the end-of-recess bell had just gone, she was willing to risk being late
for Shedrand’s class if it meant having the chance to put an end to all this. “Hi,” she said.

But the looks she saw on both their faces told her nothing had changed.

“Still slumming?” asked Britney. There was something in her voice besides animosity, besides ridicule. Willa could hear beneath it a trace of the poutiness Britney always used when she was hurt. The implication? That Willa had intentionally set out to wound her, which she’d accomplished by turning her back on her real friends.

Celia, however, showed no similar softness. “You’re going to regret this,” she said.

“There’s a lot that I regret,” Willa sighed. “Look, you don’t know the whole story.”

“And you think
you
do?” Celia laughed, the sound almost shrill in the growing silence of the emptying corridor. “I always thought you were one of the smartest people I know, Willa.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re making a mistake. A big one.”

“It’s the mistake I made five months ago that bothers me now.”

Britney spoke up. “Wynn’s the best thing that ever happened to you. I don’t know why you can’t see that.”

“You don’t know Wynn as well as you think you do.” It was pointless trying to make them understand. She turned to her locker.

“Yeah, like you know Keegan Fraser,” scoffed Celia. “No secrets there, right?”

Willa looked at her. “What are you trying to say?”

“It’s better if we show you,” said Britney.

“Took you a lot longer than you thought, huh?” asked Keegan when he found Willa at her locker after school, students hurrying past them toward buses and cars. Then he seemed to notice the look on her face. “What’s wrong?”

She’d intended to stay home, which was where she’d gone after Celia and Britney had shown her what they’d found. She was glad her mother hadn’t returned from Halifax because she’d needed the privacy, crying for an hour. She’d managed to hold most of it in until she reached the Sonic, wiping the tears away as she drove, but she hadn’t given in to it fully until she made it to her room. It was there that she wailed at the enormity of Keegan’s deception. Eventually, she’d fallen asleep on her bed, then woken up an hour later and cried some more.

She’d intended to stay right where she was on that bed, too overwhelmed to even think of confronting him. But then she’d gotten into the shower, letting the hot water pulsate against her body for twenty minutes, easing her muscles, and when she’d finally shut it off, she was pissed.

Trust me.

She had. Just like she’d trusted Wynn. And look where that had gotten her. Again.

I’m not who you think I am.

No shit.

She’d arrived back at school in time to catch her last class, but she might as well have skipped it—she’d spent the whole period imagining this moment. And now it was here. “I know, Keegan,” she said, struggling to control her anger. She had a lot to unleash,
and she didn’t want to dissolve in tears before she’d said all she had to say.
Needed
to say.

“Know what?”

“Everything. I know who you are.”

His eyes widened.

“And don’t pretend you have no idea what I’m talking about,” she said. “The thefts, the violence, I know all of it.”

“How?” His voice was a hoarse whisper.

“How do you
think
? Facebook.”

His face blanched, and she took a grim pleasure in the effect her words were having on him. “Show me,” he said.

It was the last thing she’d expected him to say. The
nerve
of him. She turned to walk away, afraid she’d do something she’d regret if she didn’t.