Trail of Secrets (11 page)

I caught up and stood behind Ambie. “Is this Madonna's idea of a workout? A little roll in the dirt?”

She laughed. “Did you hear that, Madonna?” she asked. “Jennifer's giving you a backhanded insult.” Ambie rubbed her hand along Madonna's neck. “Jen thinks you're letting yourself go.”

Madonna responded by flipping onto her feet and sauntering towards a sunny spot on the grass near Mrs. Guido's chrysanthemum garden, where she promptly dropped onto her side and closed her eyes.

I followed Ambie up the front steps. “I've never seen a cat with a beer belly before,” I said. “That cat gives lazy a bad name.”

“As if Madonna Guido isn't a bad enough name all on its own,” Ambie said.

“So how's Mr. Stoyko?” Ambie asked, reaching for another chocolate chip cookie. She was sitting with her legs over the arm of her computer chair, facing where I lay on my stomach on her bed.

“Better. He's supposed to be coming home next week.”

“That's great,” Ambie said, her eyes darting back to the empty computer screen.

“Why don't you turn it on, if you want?” I asked. “I don't mind if you're waiting for an e-mail or something.”

Ambie swatted in the air like she was trying to shoo away a mosquito. “No, that's okay. I'm really not expecting anything.” She giggled, and a dull red crept up her cheeks.

I felt my own interest level climb several notches. Could Ambie have a secret admirer she wasn't telling me about?

“When's your cross-country race?” she asked, almost as if she was trying to change the subject.

“Tuesday. We'll be bussing to Sir John A. McDonald School at nine o'clock. My race starts at eleven.”

“Are you nervous?”

“Maybe a little. I've never tested myself against anyone before. I hope I don't twist an ankle or something.”

“You'll be fine, Jen. Just exposing your underbelly to Mr. Jacks, and not caring that
all
the cool kids think track is sissy should be enough to win you a medal.”

“Thanks, Ambie,” I said. “You've given voice to all my innermost fears. I'm going to be labelled the school dork, and Mr. Jacks is going to have ‘I told you so' tattooed to my forehead when I fail to finish in the top twenty.”

“You gotta love high school,” Ambie grinned.

“Or not,” I grumbled.

I slept in Saturday and spent the day hanging around the
house in my pajamas. By mid-afternoon on Sunday, I was getting tired of doing nothing, so I dressed in warm clothes and set out for my last run before the big race on Tuesday. I made my way to the bike path and jogged south for a few kilometres. I didn't usually come this way and suddenly remembered that if I cut off the path near the mall and kept going down Cooper Road, I'd eventually end up in Evan's new subdivision. I wasn't tired and didn't have anything else to do, so before long, I found myself at the intersection of Cooper and Oakdale. He'd said their house was smaller than the others, but as I jogged up the street, I could see that none of the houses was what I would call particularly small. They all had three or four car garages, turrets and high fences. Some had freshly rolled-out lawns, while others had muddy yards that could do with some landscaping. Some even had gates across the driveway and intercoms. Nobody was visible either in the yards or on the street. How had I missed all these big, new houses going up? Boy, blink your eyes, and houses popped up like mushrooms after a week of rain. I took a close look around me. The entire subdivision had the feeling of wealth and . . . well, blandness. Dad's house might be small, but at least it had character. I thought about running up somebody's driveway to see if they knew where Evan lived, but something told me these people wouldn't know the names of their neighbours.

I turned and started jogging lightly down the sidewalk the way I had come, still looking around in case I caught sight of Evan or his sister. I was just about at the intersection with Cooper Road when the hum of an approaching car's
engine made me lift my head. I turned to my left just as a long black limousine swung around the corner and into view. I jogged in place on the sidewalk as I waited for the car to pass by. A man dressed in a dark chauffeur's uniform with a peaked cap was visible through the front windshield, but the other windows were tinted, and I couldn't see inside. Maybe someone had rented the limo for a special event. Nobody in Springhills owned one, as far as I knew. Of course, this whole subdivision was news to me, so it was possible that a limo or two could have slipped into town under my radar. I watched the car turn onto Oakdale and climb the street before it turned slowly into one of the gated driveways. It stopped and idled for a few seconds before the gates swung open. Then it slowly disappeared inside, and the gates closed behind it.

Was Springhills hiding some royalty the town gossip lines had missed? Did Evan really live in this ritzy neighbourhood, or had he made the whole thing up? I could have sworn he didn't have much money, and it made me sad to think that he'd felt the need to fabricate a lifestyle just to impress us.

I had lots to think about as I ran home, and time and distance flew by unnoticed. Before I knew it, I was jogging up Sunnydale, and I could see our house with the black shutters and the peeling grey paint in the middle of the block. Our house was a sight for sore eyes all right, and mine were happy I lived here and not in Evan's subdivision. I quickened my pace for the sprint home as my thoughts turned happily to a hot shower and a visit with Dad, whose car I'd spotted in the driveway.

I left the house early Monday morning to make certain I caught Ambie before class. It was a warm day for the end of September—robin's egg blue sky and butterball sun filtering through the trees. I was wearing my favourite jean jacket, a white T-shirt and chocolate brown cords. I'd pulled my hair back into a ponytail, and only a few pieces had escaped by the time I made it to school. All in all, I felt as if I was looking pretty sweet, that is until I met up with Ambie, who stood waiting for me near the oak tree. She'd chosen a jade ruffled top and black miniskirt with knee-high black boots. Her hair was a tumble of curls held back with a silver headband. Ambie's fashion sense had done cartwheels over mine, and it left me a little puzzled. When had she learned to pull herself together like this, and why did I feel like I was missing a mandatory female gene?

“Wow! You're early,” Ambie said, making a show of checking her watch.

“The early bird gets to class on time,” I said. “We have a test today on frog guts and those of other assorted amphibians, and I want to review my diagrams one last time.”

Ambie wrinkled up her nose. “How disgusting. Are you set for your race tomorrow?”

“I guess.” My anger at Mr. Jacks had worn off, and I was
beginning to wonder why I'd ever signed up for the team. He'd right about me never having run a race before. I must have been dreaming in technicolor to think I could keep up with runners from other schools that probably took track a lot more seriously than Morton T. High. It would have been hard to find a school that put less effort into their track program. Morton had never even placed in the top ten at regionals to my knowledge—boys' or girls' events. I heard footsteps behind me and turned just as Gillian Foster tapped me on the shoulder.

“Hi, Gill,” I said. “How's it going?”

“Good. Did you hear there's going to be a surprise band at the Raven's Nest on Saturday night? Billy's put the word out that he's landed a famous group that's warming up for a big tour. Can you believe it?”

“Bigger than Derek and Cold Hands? Hard to believe, all right,” I said.

Gillian laughed. “Yeah. Cold Hands isn't in the same league as this band, apparently. Do you think it could be Coldplay? I sure would like to see them live.”

“Couldn't be Coldplay,” Ambie said. “I just read in the newspaper that they're playing in Europe somewhere.”

“I guess we'll find out on Saturday night. Should be exciting. Well, see you in class, Jennifer,” Gillian said as she raced away to meet up with her boyfriend.

“Do you want to go to the Raven on Saturday?” I asked Ambie.

She avoided my eyes. “Maybe. I might be busy. I'll let you know, okay?”

“Okay,” I said, “But what is it you might be busy doing?”

“Just . . . family stuff.” Ambie took a few steps towards the school. “I've got to get to class, and you have some teeny tiny circulatory systems to look over. See you in English.”

“See you then,” I said, scuffing my foot through a stack of leaves as I started towards the other entrance. It was time to start preparing for the biology test, and that meant shutting out all distracting thoughts.

Evan was already in his seat when I sauntered into the classroom. A few others were standing around talking, including Toby Manning. I stopped at Evan's desk. He'd been reading over his biology textbook but looked up and grinned at me. “Hi, Jennifer,” he said. “Ready for the big test?”

“Bring on the pictures of Kermit's innards,” I said. “I know them like the back of my hand.” I slid into my seat across the aisle. “An expression I always found a bit odd, since I probably couldn't pick my hand out of a police lineup. By the way, I jogged over to find your subdivision yesterday. I couldn't find your house.”

Evan shrugged. “We're just renting. It looks like we'll be moving again Sunday.”

“Oh? Where are you moving to?” I felt strangely let down.

“London.”

“Any reason in particular?” I asked.

“Dad's job,” he said. “Say, is your cross country race tomorrow?”

“Yup. I'm thinking it might have been a mistake to open myself up to such humiliation, but I won't give Mr. Jacks the satisfaction of withdrawing.”

“I hear he's tough.”

I nodded. “That's one word for him.”

“Well, good luck. I know you'll be fine.”

“Thanks.”

At that moment, the others filed into the room with Mr. Williams right behind them. He made us settle down quickly so we'd have as much time as possible for the test. By the time I lifted my head from the last question, Evan had already left for his next class. I'd wanted to talk to him further about his family's move and to let him know I didn't care if they had financial troubles. I realized all of a sudden that I was going to miss having him around. Still, London was still in Ontario and not too far away, and maybe he'd be back to visit.

I got a long e-mail from Pete that night. Well, long for Pete. In amongst the comments about his workload and adjusting to residence, I detected something not quite right. I found the reason in his last paragraph:

It looks like I won't be home for Thanksgiving. I have too many assignments due the first day back and can't afford the time off. I was really looking forward to seeing you, but Christmas will be here before we know it. I'll try to call by the weekend
.