Trail of Secrets (7 page)

“There,” Mrs. Guido said at last, straightening from placing the last loaf pan in the oven. “An hour or so, and we'll have some fresh warm bread and butter.”

“I can't wait,” I said happily.

“Let me pour you a glass of juice, dear,” Mrs. Guido said as she pushed a strand of grey hair off her forehead with the back of her hand.

We sat at the kitchen table drinking orange juice in tall blue glasses. The smell of baking bread soon filled the room, making me feel warm inside. I lowered my glass
and looked over at Mrs. Guido, who'd stopped talking all of a sudden. Her kind brown eyes studied me from behind her wire-rimmed glasses. “Has Ambie said anything to you, dear, about . . . about something bothering her?” Mrs. Guido asked, a worried look crossing her face. She looked down and spun her juice glass in a damp circle on the table.

I bit my bottom lip. Should I tell Mrs. Guido about her ex-husband contacting Ambie? Ambie said he'd stopped e-mailing her, so it didn't seem like a potential problem any more. It might be cruel to make Mrs. Guido fret about something that was probably over with, especially when I didn't know what awful memories Martin Donaldson's name might stir up.

“I think Ambie's got some heavy courses this term and she's just preoccupied with the work,” I said. I knew that wasn't the whole truth, but it wasn't a lie either.

Mrs. Guido gave a relieved sigh. “Well now, I guess that's not the end of the world then.” She lifted her eyes and smiled at me. “Ambie's our pride and joy, you know, and we probably worry about her more than we should.”

“You wouldn't be a parent if you didn't worry. My mom used to be pretty good at it too,” I said just as Mr. Guido strolled into the kitchen, whistling the theme from the
Simpsons
. He was tall—just over six feet—medium build, with curly black hair and a black beard laced with grey. He kissed Mrs. Guido on the forehead and rubbed a smear of flour from her cheek. Then he beamed at me. “Just in time, I see, for the bread-tasting. You girls having fun?” His black eyes twinkled.

I nodded. “I've learned all your family secrets. I can't
wait to try baking bread at home.”

“I'm free any time to come sample. Don't be shy about calling.” His wide smile disappeared as he turned towards Mrs. Guido. “Any sign of Ambie?”

“She's still sleeping. I think she was up late again last night doing school work.”

“I hope she's not going at it too hard. She has to have some fun too, like our Jennifer here.” He patted me on the arm.

That was me all right. If I knew how to have any more fun, they'd have to limit my access to household appliances. As I was trying to come up with something agreeable to say, the oven timer went off, and our attention happily shifted to the bread that Mrs. Guido was pulling from the oven. Mr. Guido and I grinned in anticipation, and by the time we'd eaten a whole loaf of herbed bread and a slice or two of whole wheat, my pathetically dull social life didn't seem like such a big deal.

Ambie was still in bed when I left the Guidos just before lunch with two loaves of bread to share with Dad. The fact that she hadn't gotten up to see me seemed strange, and I decided to check in with her as soon as I could. Her mother's worry was adding to my own feeling that all was not right with my best friend. I wouldn't let Ambie face whatever she was going through alone. I'd ignored her for most of the summer and was not about to let that happen again.

I phoned Ambie on Sunday night after supper, but she
was out. Mr. Guido said she'd gone to a movie with Cindy Vickers, but he'd have her call me when she got home. Dad left to work on a car in his shop that needed to be fixed by morning, so I pulled out my biology textbook. Mr. Williams hadn't assigned the chapter on plants and photosynthesis, but I had time to kill. I lay on my stomach under a reading lamp in the living room and read for an hour or so. I snapped the book shut and rolled over onto my back. The material hadn't been half as boring as I'd thought it would be. I checked my watch. Nearly ten o'clock, and Ambie hadn't called. Well, I'd see her at school the next morning, so I'd find out what was going on then.

I checked out the window for Dad's car before I climbed the stairs for bed, but he was nowhere in sight. I was just dropping the curtain back into place when a car's headlights pierced the darkness. I stood for a moment more, hoping Dad was finally home. I hated it when he worked in the evenings. It would be good to have him home and to give him a hug before I went to bed. The car slowed in front of our house but didn't turn into the driveway. I kept watching. It was a small car that looked very familiar. It passed under the streetlight across from our driveway. In that instant, I saw Evan Quinn turn to look at our house from the white Lamborghini he'd sworn wasn't his. Just as quickly, his face turned away from me, and the car accelerated from sight.

There was no law against someone driving past your house, but all the same, it made me feel a little creeped out. Cindy's warnings about Evan flashed through my head, making me feel even more on edge. I did an extra
circuit of the downstairs, making sure all the doors and windows were locked. “You're spending way too much time alone, Bannon,” I mumbled to myself. I took one last look around the living room before reaching over and flicking off the lights. Time to get to bed and start over again on Monday. All I needed was a good night's sleep and, possibly, a new haircut to make everything right again.

Nothing out of the ordinary happened the first part of the week except that Evan Quinn was absent again. Rumours started flying around the school—Diane Saunders and Heidi Larsen, two girls in my biology class, caught up with me as I was heading to the cafeteria for lunch.

“Have you heard the latest on Evan Quinn?” Heidi asked. Heidi was five feet tall with golden hair that hung the full length of her back. “His family is in the drug trade. His father isn't around because he's either in jail or in hiding.”

Diane nodded, her eyes shiny behind red-rimmed glasses. “Evan's in it up to his neck. Bobby saw a needle in his schoolbag. He's probably in rehab or something, trying to break his drug habit.”

I blinked a few times, trying to think if I'd seen any signs of Evan having a drug problem. The expensive sports car and the fact he'd been hanging around my house were weird but not criminal. “Is there any evidence of his dad doing something illegal?” I asked.

Heidi shook her head. “From what I hear, they move every time someone starts asking questions.”

“Well, his sister Karly is at school. I saw her Monday morning going to class,” I said.

“Karly Quinn doesn't talk to anyone, and she's only
taking two classes. She leaves school before lunch,” Diane said. “Don't you find it odd that nobody sees them around town?”

“Not really,” I said. “They haven't lived in Springhills all that long.”

“I think they'll be moving on by Christmas,” Heidi said. “Maybe they'll go back to the States. The RCMP should be closing in on them soon.”

At lunch I waited around for Ambie in front of the cafeteria. She was late, and I'd almost given up hope of her coming when she rounded the corner.

“Sorry I'm late,” she said as we lined up with our trays. Most of the kids had already gotten their food, and we didn't have to wait to place our orders. We got steaming bowls of chicken noodle soup and grilled cheese sandwiches and found two empty seats at a table of Grade Nine students. Luckily, they were done eating and left a few minutes after we sat down. The rest of our friends were sitting at a long table across the room.

“So, Ambie, how's it going?” I asked, taking a sip of milk.

“Good,” Ambie said. She'd put her long blonde hair into a ponytail, revealing silver hoop earrings that swung and caught the light as she moved. “Sorry I missed you on the weekend. Dad told me you called on Sunday, but I went to see a movie with Cindy at the last minute and got home late.”

“Are you feeling better now?”

“Yeah. Much better, thanks. Did you call about anything special?”

“No, not really. I just wanted to make sure everything
was okay with you. It feels like we never get to see each other any more.”

“I know,” Ambie said. “Let's do something together this weekend.”

“I'd like that,” I said. “So, nothing's new then?”

Ambie picked up her soup spoon and dipped it into her bowl. “No, unless you include a unit math test on Thursday and a calculus test Friday. I'm going to have to study like crazy, since I didn't do much on the weekend. I'll be glad when we get to my place after school on Friday. That'll mean I survived the week.”

“Here's to Fridays,” I said, raising my milk glass.

“To Fridays,” she laughed, picking up her water bottle and clunking it against my glass.

On Thursday afternoon, I stayed late after school to try out for the track and field team. Mr. Jacks and Miss Po were running the tryouts. I liked Miss Po, who'd taught me Grade Eleven Phys Ed and was always cheery and positive. Mr. Jacks, on the other hand, was as far from cheery as a grizzly bear with a toothache but not a bad guy when push came to shove.

They had their heads together comparing clipboards when I arrived.

I started doing some warm-ups alongside the others, who were chatting and laughing as they stretched. I seemed to be one of the few without a friend to talk to. I checked the group and saw most were from Grades Nine
and Ten. It didn't look like track was popular with the high school seniors. Mr. Jacks wandered over and stood next to me. He was wearing a purple sweatband around his bald head, which clashed with his granny apple green tracksuit.

“Jennifer Bannon. I've never seen you out for the cross country team before. What makes you think you're qualified to do it this year?”

Was he expecting a resumé?
“I've been running on my own all through high school and thought I'd give this a try. If I don't make it . . . well, that's all right.”

Mr. Jacks wrote something on his clipboard. “We're not exactly swamped with senior girls, so the odds are good you'll make the team. Whether or not you'll embarrass yourself at the regional meet is anyone's guess.” He flicked his pen on the board for emphasis as he walked away.

All the things I disliked about Mr. Jacks were starting to come back to me. I bent down to tie my shoelace, keeping myself from taking a run at his retreating back. A lot of people might have thrown in the towel right then and there, but I wasn't one of them. Instead, I could feel a slow burn starting in my belly and spreading up to the roots of my scalp. “I'll show you, you old coot,” I mumbled under my breath as I stood from my crouched position. I could feel my cheeks flush with anger. “We'll see who ends up embarrassed.”

The cross country route started on the track and cut into a path through the woods that skirted along the river before detouring onto the road that led back to the school. I'd been running up and down hills for most of the summer and didn't find this trail particularly challenging. The hardest
part was waiting for the groups of girls to spread out so that I could pass them. By the time I turned onto the road that led back to the high school field, I'd passed most of the girls and about half of the boys. I figured that would be enough to get me onto the team and settled into a comfortable jog. No point in killing myself when it didn't matter, a philosophy I'd adopted for school in general.

I crossed the finish line in tenth place behind a couple of Grade Eleven boys who quickly doubled over, gasping for air. I loped over to the jug of water and poured myself a cup before I circled the track one more time to cool down. I wasn't winded at all.

When I passed by Mr. Jacks and Miss Po on my way to go home, Miss Po smiled at me and said, “See you Monday for practice. We start at seven thirty. Congratulations on making the team.”