Shatterproof (3 page)

The two girls who come out of Marlena’s are just as pretty as the first ones. And just as easy to con. As soon as Lug mentions being on
TV
, they’re into it. They don’t ask questions. They just do that “omigod, omigod, omigod” thing. And then they pay us and sign up.

Lug reels the girls in with his great spiel. He handles everything like a pro.
He stops them from taking photos and whisks the money out of sight. We don’t want mall security to start asking questions.

I stop being nervous and start to enjoy myself. No girl has ever looked at me like these ones do. I feel all mellow but also strong and powerful, like after I’ve run ten K. I could get used to being Bo Blaketon!

That makes me think of my dad. He used to host a radio talk show. Is this how he felt when he was a local celebrity? Like everything he said was important? Like everything he did was special?

Thinking of my dad snaps me back to reality. I don’t want to be like him.

I don’t want to be a jerk.

Scamming these girls is evil. So as soon as we’ve signed up enough for me to buy that board, I tell Lug, “That’s it. I’m going for lunch.”

Lug doesn’t try to stop me. All the way to the food court he blabs on about how great this is and how rich we’re going to be.

I find us a table at the edge of the food court, way back by the washrooms. I don’t want anybody else thinking they know me from
TV
. I don’t want Lug trying to sign up more girls. I just want to eat my burger in peace.

But first I go scrub that girl’s number off my hand. I find a beanie in my backpack and put it on. Then I keep my head down. I don’t look at anybody. I don’t look around at all.

After we’ve got our food, Lug pulls out his wallet. He counts off six twenties for me. “Your pay,” he says. “Man, I make a great assistant, don’t I?”

I hide the money in my wallet fast. “Yup. But you can take the rest of the day off.”

“What?”

I slather some ketchup on my fries. “We’re going to a movie, remember? And I’m done being Bo Blaketon.”

“No way,” he says. “We can make another hundred or more each, no sweat.”

“I’ve got enough for that board. Plus tax. I’m good.”

“Nate, you’re not thinking straight. We’ve got a great thing going. Who wants to go see a movie when we can make this kind of cash?”

“Actually, I am thinking straight. Forget the movie. I’m going to go buy that board and get out of here. Before we get caught.”

“No, you’re not. Would Bo Blaketon be carrying a skateboard when he’s signing up extras?”

“But he’s not signing up any more extras. He’s stopping now. You know, quit while you’re ahead.”

Lug finishes the last of his fries. “I don’t think so.”

“What if some of those girls go home and tell their parents about being an extra? Their parents will know we scammed their daughters.”

“Trust me, they won’t. Those girls are all still at the mall. Probably buying new outfits to wear on set.”

He could be right. But still. “What if one of them did get a picture of me as Bo Blaketon and she posts it somewhere? What if the real Bo Blaketon sees it and calls his people? And they call the cops?”

“Look,” he says. “You’re right. That might happen. But not in the next couple of hours. And after that we’ll be gone, and they’ll never find us.”

I slurp down my soda and pile our used dishes onto a tray. “I just don’t feel right about it.”

Lug bursts out laughing. “Not one of those girls asked us for
ID
. Not one of them called her parents to get permission.
Not one of them checked on our story at all. It’s their own fault if we take their money.”

Before I can answer, my phone vibrates. There’s a text from Mom. I read it and cringe.

“Great,” I tell Lug. “My dad called my mom, and she wants to know what’s going on. Why I asked him for money.”

“Parents,” Lug says with a shake of his head. “Always in your face.”

I text Mom back.
Just had lunch. Have to go stretch b
₄
race.

I don’t answer her question about Dad. I’ll have to talk my way out of why I asked him for money later.

I leave Lug to finish his drink and carry our trays to the bin. I take my time sorting out garbage from what goes in recycling.

I can’t help thinking about all the times Lug’s schemes have gotten me in trouble. And how mad and disappointed
Mom would be if she ever found out about today.

That’s it. Our scam has to end.

When I come back to the table I tell Lug, “I’m going to go buy that board. Then I’m going to the skate park until it’s time to get the bus to the ferry.”

“You can’t bail on me now.”

“And who’s gonna stop me? You gonna beat me up right here?”

“Oh, no need for violence,” Lug says. “I’ll just let your mom know what you’ve been doing.”

Lug pulls out his phone. “I’m sure your mom would love to hear how much money you made scamming innocent girls.”

My heart skips a beat. “You wouldn’t!”

“Oh yeah?” Lug starts tapping at the screen. “Try me.”

I can’t let him call Mom. I stop his hand and say, “Okay, okay, let’s talk
about this. Remember how much trouble I got in after that thing you did at grad?”

“That thing I did? You were there too, dude.”

I nod in agreement. “I know. But you took the photos. You Photoshopped them. You were the one planning to blackmail those girls.”

“And your point is?” Lug picks up his drink and stirs the ice with his straw.

How do I say this so he won’t think I’m blaming him? “Okay, yeah, I’m guilty too, but my mom’s got enough trouble, with her accident and my dad leaving and everything. She doesn’t need this.” I can still see Mom’s face the day she got the phone call from that girl’s parents. Shock. Anger. Disappointment.

I tried to explain that it wasn’t my idea. I promised never to see Lug again.

But I broke my word. And now I’m in too deep.

“Huh,” Lug says. “I do feel sorry for your mom. But I feel way sorrier for you.”

“Wait. What?”

“Because you used to be a lot more fun,” Lug says. “The old Nate would want to sign up more girls.”

“Yeah? Well, the old Lug wouldn’t threaten to call my mom.”

Lug makes a face at me, but he puts his phone away.

“Thanks, man,” I say. “Seriously.”

“Whatever. But you’re boring now, you know that?”

Before I can defend myself, this little kid races by our table. He’s maybe three or four. There’s a girl about our age right behind him. She’s calling, “Tree! Stop right now!”

The kid laughs like a maniac and zooms away. He dodges between the crowded tables. Because he’s small, he can squeeze through where she can’t.

“Tree!” She sounds desperate. “Get back here!”

Of course he doesn’t listen. He circles around and around, always just out of reach.

Nobody bothers to help her. Nobody pays any attention at all.

So the next time the kid passes our table, I’m ready. I stick out my arm and grab him. “Hey, little buddy,” I say as he struggles to get free. “Where you going so fast?”

The girl catches up and takes him from me. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you,” she says. “I’d be in so much trouble if I lost him at the mall.”

She kneels down to scold him. “Tree! You know Dad told you to stay with me all the time!”

He scowls and shrieks, “Ice cream! Want ice cream!”

“We’re not getting ice cream.” She holds out a plastic baggie of mini carrots.
“We’re supposed to have veggies for snacks.”

“No! Want crackers.”

She sighs and pulls a baggie of Goldfish crackers from her purse. “Fine. Here.”

Tree climbs onto a chair beside Lug to eat them.

“Sorry,” the girl says. “Do you mind if he sits there? I don’t see any free tables.”

“No problem,” Lug says. “You can join us too.”

The girl straightens up and says, “Thanks! And thanks again for the help.” She’s wearing this weird sweater that looks like it’s made from other sweaters. And a jean skirt that looks like it’s made from old jeans.

“You’re welcome,” I say. “He’s a pretty fast kid!”

Lug stares at her. At first I think he’s wondering how to ask if she wants
to be an extra. But then I notice he’s scowling.

And then I notice that one side of her face is scarred. It looks like a birthmark or a bad burn. But it’s partly hidden by her long curly hair, so I can’t tell for sure.

“I’m Spring,” she says. “And I guess you know my little brother is Tree.”

I laugh. She has this sweet but confident vibe. “Yeah, I heard.”

“And you are?”

“Me? Oh, I’m uh—”

“He’s Bo Blaketon!” Lug says. “And I’m his assistant, Laurence.”

He waits. But she doesn’t react like the other girls did. She doesn’t gasp, giggle, burst into tears or scream.

“What?” Lug says. “Don’t you recognize him?”

Spring takes a good long look at me. “I don’t think so. Should I?”

“
Shatterproof
?” Lug says. “You know, the
TV
show?”

“Oh,” she says. “Sorry, no. We don’t have a
TV
. My parents don’t believe in it.”

“Really? They’re like, religious or something?” Lug asks.

“They’re homeschoolers.”

“So you don’t go to school?”

“My dad teaches us at home. He follows the provincial curriculum.” Spring sounds like she’s had to defend homeschooling before. “Plus we do a lot of enrichment activities and field trips.”

“Sucks that you can’t watch
TV
though,” Lug says. “But hey, the first season of
Shatterproof
is on Netflix. You get that?”

“Yeah, but I’m only allowed to watch nature shows or educational stuff.” Spring gazes at me again. “But I’d like to watch
Shatterproof
.”

“Oh, you’d love it,” Lug says. “It’s about this teen detective, who’s played by my man Bo here.”

“Wow! A real
TV
star!” Spring finger-combs her hair so it covers more of her face. “But what are you doing at the mall?”

“Glad you asked!” Lug launches into his sales pitch. He sounds so professional, I almost believe him. No wonder all those girls signed up without asking questions.

Spring takes the empty cracker bag from Tree as she listens. “That’s so amazing,” she says, brushing crumbs from Tree’s mouth. “But I don’t have twenty bucks.”

Lug sputters with disbelief. “Everybody has twenty bucks.”

“No they don’t,” I say. “Lots of people don’t.”

“Hey, I wish I did. I’d love to be an extra on your show,” Spring says.

Lug pulls the sad face he used when that girl asked if guys could sign up. “That’s too bad. But we do need the registration fee.”

“No we don’t,” I say. “We could let her sign up for free, and then she could pay it back from her earnings.”

“Seriously?” Spring’s face lights up. “You’d let me do that?”

“Do that?” Tree says.

Lug gives me a dirty look. “Aw, no, so sorry. We can’t waive the fee.”

“Sure we can. No big deal.” I push Lug’s iPad toward her. “Just enter your name and contact info. We’ll do the rest.”

Just as Spring is finished entering her details, Tree jumps down from the table. “Peepee!” he shouts.

“Oops, sorry. I’ll be right back.” Spring grabs Tree in her arms and races him to the washroom.

Lug squashes his empty drink cup with his fist. “Jeez, man. Why’d you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Sign her up for free!”

I lean back and cross my arms over my chest. “Because she didn’t have the money.”

“Exactly. And now we’ll never get that twenty bucks!”

“And she’ll never get to be an extra. This whole thing is fake, remember?”

“So?” Lug throws his squashed cup toward the garbage bin. He misses.

I go and put it in the bin. When I come back I say, “So I wanted her contact info.”

He gasps. “You’re joking, right?”

“Why would I be joking?”

“Did you see that scar?”

I look him right in the eye. “What about it?”

Lug shakes his head with disgust. “No wonder her parents took her out of school.”

I want to hit him. But he’s way bigger and heavier than I am. And we’re
in a public place. “Not necessarily. Some parents just don’t like the school system.”

“Yeah, because their ugly kid would get bullied to death. She’s a freak.”

“No, she’s not. She’s a pretty girl with a scar of some kind.”

“And here comes Freakface now.” Lug stands to leave the table. “I’m going for a smoke.”

Spring is holding Tree’s hand like she’s scared he might escape again. “Your assistant’s leaving?”

“He had to, um, make some calls.” I mimic smoking. “Hey, you guys want a drink or something? I mean, if you’re not busy?”

“Ice cream!” Tree says.

“That would be great,” Spring says.

We go over to the ice-cream place and order sundaes. I use some of the money I was saving for dinner on the ferry. I don’t want to spend what I made pretending to
be Bo Blaketon. Luckily, nobody asks if I’m him.

As we wait for our order, I wonder how I could give that money back.

I’d like to reverse this whole day. I have a feeling if Spring ever finds out we were running a scam, she’ll hate me.

And I really, really want her to like me.

We carry our sundaes to a table. Spring tucks a napkin bib on Tree and says, “This is turning out to be a great field trip, right, Tree?”

“Ice cream,” he says as he digs in.

I stir my chocolate sauce. “Field trip?”

“That’s what we call it. My dad had a meeting today, my mom’s working, and my other brothers are at soccer, so normally we’d be at the park. But because it’s so rainy, my dad dropped us off here. There’s a play area, and Tree can run around. Or run away from me.” She smiles and eats some
of her sundae. “This is so good,” she says. “But anyway, my dad calls it a field trip so he’ll feel better about us spending a Saturday here. I’m supposed to be researching consumerism, so it’s a learning experience.”

“And what have you learned?”

“What I already knew. That the mall is full of overpriced junk nobody needs.”

“I know, right?” I think about that Globe Bantam Galaxy Cruiser. It’s not junk, but I know I don’t need it. What I need is to find a way out of this mess. “Do you ever want to go to regular school?”

“Sometimes,” she says. “I think I will for high school next year.” She fiddles with her hair, twisting it into a loose braid. Then she lets it fall back over her scar.

“So what happened?”

“Why am I homeschooled?”

“Yeah, but I meant about your face.” Mom’s told me how hard it is when people turn away rather than ask about her wheelchair. Or when they just look at her with pity. Or when they don’t look at her at all.

“Really? Nobody ever asks. It scares people.”

“I’m asking. That’s a pretty impressive scar.”

“Okay.” Spring helps Tree scoop up the last of his sundae. “It happened at the homeschoolers’ summer barbecue two years ago. I was toasting a marshmallow over a campfire. It started to fall off the stick, so I reached in to push it back on. And then my hair caught fire.”

“Whoa! That’s scary!”

“Yeah, it was. Hair products are extremely flammable.” She pushes her hair back so I can get a good look at her scar.

It’s red and shiny and scaly. It stretches from her chin up to her hairline, very close to her eye. I try not to act grossed out like Lug did. “Must be painful,” I say. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

“So am I,” she says. “But I’m so lucky and grateful that I didn’t lose my eye. And yeah, it hurt a lot.”

I want to tell her about Mom’s accident. How it changed everything. But I don’t know where to start. While I’m trying to find the words, Spring keeps talking.

“I’ve had a lot of plastic surgery, and I’ll have more as I grow. So what you see isn’t the final version. This is just a temporary scar.”

She gives a bitter laugh. “Of course, my parents turned it into a learning experience. So, like, I’ve learned that true beauty is internal. I’ve learned how superficial people can be. I’ve learned to say,
If you don’t like how I look, step off!
”
She eats the last bite of her sundae and licks the spoon. “And now I’ve learned that even with my freaky face, I can still be on
TV
! How cool is that?”