A descent through the carpet

Community service really can make you a changed person. After school, Zenobia and I compared notes for the history test at the library, and she told me that Zahava and Zainab liked doing kiddie sports so much, they've got summer jobs at the community recreation centre. I told her that my read-aloud days are over for the time being. After that I walked over to my mother's office to get a ride home. While I was in the waiting room, I heard the last patient of the day talking to my mother.
"Dr. Larson, you must be related to that charming Arne Larson! I'm in a creative non-fiction writing class with him. Such a sweet man. It's amazing how he's always short of cab fare back to his house outside town every week--it's wonderful how he comes in from the farm just to learn to be creative! I'm always happy to help him out with his fare out to his farm." I think my mother groaned at that point. I wasn't sure what happened next, since my mother started to recommend various forms of treatment for menopause, which the woman (obviously) lightly rejected. Then the conversation started getting odd.
"Dr. Larson, do you think my father could get poisoned by my granddaughter's modelling clay? This weekend she used his false teeth to cut cute shapes out of it, and Dad says that his teeth still taste like coloured clay."
"Why was she playing with someone's false teeth? Wasn't anyone watching her?" my mother asked.
"Oh, children always do cute things like that: if it's not clay, it's stickers, or playing with a tricycle on the stairs, or re-sorting the knife drawer..." My mother started to steer the conversation to "what medical problem do you think you have?" right then, but the patient didn't take the hint. "My daughter's coming back from the north to teach this summer, and she'll be marrying her high school boyfriend when she comes home. It's just so, I don't know, right to marry someone you've known for so long. My daughter April [at that moment I realized exactly who the nutty patient in there was] is in a band with Duncan Anderson and Gerald Forsythe, who she's known for years! Why, doesn't your daughter go out with Duncan? I think I recall April saying something about that." Much to my disgust, my mother said yes, my daughter is seeing Duncan. At that point I would have been overjoyed if she disowned me, but no, she had to go on and talk about me. My mother even admitted that Duncan and I had met when I was just starting school. Now I really want to go back to the therapist, I thought. Mrs. Patterson said that that was lovely. Then she went on a tangent about true love sometimes happening out of nowhere. Her father, she said, for instance, up and married Iris and no one had ever heard of her. April's band now had an amazing new singer, and the boys certainly were interested in her. Oh no, she must mean Eva, I thought, and she thinks Eva's attempts to entrap Duncan are wonderful. Around that point my mother said something about having to pick up her son, and Mrs. Patterson said her goodbyes at length and exited the office, flapping her arms oddly. I glared at my mother, who looked guilty.
"You talked about me with that crazy woman! She's trying to set Duncan up with that cowboy-simile crazed band singer!" My mother apologized. I reminded her that supervising children doesn't stop them from doing stupid things: "Didn't Charles Wallace blow up part of the back yard under full parental supervision?"
She agreed, and after the guilting-out we rode home. Then, as we pulled into the driveway, she said suddenly, "Does that woman realize she's subsidizing Arne's rent?"

Firepile

I really hope I don't have to go back to Niagara Falls next weekend. Two weeks in a row was enough.
On Saturday, Duncan said that he had a feeling that his father was in Niagara Falls, and crazy. I asked him what he was basing this on, and he said it was just a feeling, but a really strong one. He wanted to go to the Falls to see if it was true. At about that point Charles Wallace wandered into the room, heard "Niagara Falls," and immediately decided that all three of us would go. My parents are still pretty happy about me and Charles Wallace not trying to maim each other, so they agreed that it was a good, if insane, idea, to go to the Falls to stop Duncan's father who may or may not be in Niagara Falls from jumping into the Falls and/or river.
We went on the casino/sightseeing bus again, and yet again were the youngest people on it. Charles Wallace insisted on sitting next to Duncan and asking him about floaters and decomposition. The bus dropped us off at the tourist centre across from the Falls, and Duncan went in to ask where you'd throw yourself in if you were suicidal and at Niagara Falls. The people at the tourist desk were pretty worried about Duncan right then, and, catching sight of me and Charles Wallace, complimented him on his lovely child (hoping to divert him and give him something to live for, I guess). Charles Wallace got all annoyed since he thought he looked to old to be my son, but I managed to get them both out of the tourist centre before anything serious happened. Then Duncan found two OPP officers and asked them where the best jumping spots were. It didn't seem like the brightest thing in the world to ask the police where to kill yourself, even if you had every intention of stopping a suicide that might not even be happening anyway, so it was really good right then that Charles Wallace announced that he was really hungry. Charles Wallace insisted on the Rainforest Cafe, and Duncan thought it would be cool, so I resigned myself to being carried along on their playdate and we went up Clifton Hill. Duncan insisted on sitting under the animatronic snake, and Charles Wallace kicked a monkey. Once I overtipped the waiters who didn't bother to throw us out for mechanical animal abuse, we got out and saw Arne near the door in the bar. Charles Wallace ran over to him before Duncan and I could grab his arms and get him out.
It got weirder after that. Duncan's father had been hanging out at the bar with Arne. Duncan had words with his father, and eventually Mr. Anderson used my telephone to call Mrs. Anderson. Mrs. Anderson said a few things that I hadn't heard before, even when she was commenting on that letter Dr. Patterson wrote about Duncan. It all ended up with Mr. Anderson telling his wife that he would be back the next day, but Duncan would be back on the 7:00 p.m. bus back to Milborough with me and Charles Wallace. Arne felt bad, or something, and said he and Mr. Anderson would take Charles Wallace on the Maid of the Mist, and that we could come along if we wanted or just hang out at his hotel. We took the keys and left.
Arne's room was interesting: for some reason he had a honeymoon suite, and there were several types of false moustaches, eyebrows, and sideburns littering the dresser area. I wanted to have a better look around at what Arne was doing, but Duncan had a better idea.
We got back to Milborough late, and we all went straight home. Mrs. Anderson had called earlier to talk to my mother about Arne, and my father was trying Arne's secret cell phone number when we got in. Every time I think I can predict how awful my uncle will be, he gets worse. I might as well get used to welcoming disaster.

Once more into the breach

Last night I went out to Duncan's to play Scrabble with him and his mother. Mrs. Anderson is really good at Scrabble, although I think Duncan is convinced that I let his mother win since she's worried about his father.
Now Duncan's convinced that his father is in Niagara Falls, and that he has to go find him. Charles Wallace wants to help Duncan, so between the two of them I'm going too. It couldn't be worse than going off to find Arne.

Premonitions

I thought it was a mistake to take Charles Wallace to a midnight movie premiere. He got to sleep in, though, since the elementary schools in Milborough are having a PD day. My parents thought that was odd, considering that it was a short week anyway, but it was true.
Duncan's mother took the day off to look for his father. Duncan's worried now that his father's insane, since his grandmother got a funeral wreath for a goat, courtesy of the Milborough Credit Union.
When I got in from school, Charles Wallace wanted to talk about the movie.
"That was cool--I got to see X-Men with a real mutant!"
"There aren't any real mutants--it's a comic book, idiot."
"Graphic novel, Sandra, and you read them too, so don't be snobby." He had me there, since he was currently reading one of my Hellboy comics. "I meant that girl, Ever: she looks just like Storm! That was so cool!"
"I don't think she has any special powers, Charles Wallace, unless you count the smirk and the amazing ability to fix men's eyes on her breasts."

Frenzied figure eights

Even though it's been a short week, it's been awful. Duncan's dad disappeared, and Duncan and his mother don't know where he is. Arne's disappeared too, but I'm not all that worried about that. When my mother and father got back from Montreal on Monday, they were really surprised at how well Charles Wallace and I were getting along. I explained that we went out to Niagara Falls to bail out Arne and things got weird after that. My mother said that she hadn't seen me and Charles Wallace get along so well since before Charles Wallace could talk. It couldn't last, of course. Charles Wallace is insisting on going to see X-Men III on opening night, and of course I'd have to take him. He's also insisting that Duncan come too, as he really likes Duncan now. So we're all going to the movies. I don't know if it's a date I have to drag my brother along to, or a play date for Duncan and Charles Wallace that I have to sit through.

Blasted heath

Duncan said he'd come along to Niagara Falls, and that he would meet me and Charles Wallace in front of the convenience store. Once he got there, we bought bus tickets from Dante (he was talking to Randal the video store guy about Star Wars again, and was kind of irritated when we wanted to buy tickets). The bus itself arrived a few minutes later.
The bus driver made sure we weren't going to the casino, saying that he couldn't have underage gambling going on. By the way the rest of the bus passengers looked, "underage gambling" meant "gambling under the age of 65." The other passengers insisted that Duncan and I sit in the front, so they could keep an eye on us. "Dangerous lice-ridden teenagers," they called us. Charles Wallace just enjoyed having a good view of the road.
The bus dropped us off at the foot of Clifton Hill, near the casinos. Duncan, Charles Wallace and I went to the gift shop by the Falls to call Arne. I had the phone, and was trying to go somewhere quiet in the shop, but the surly cashier was for some reason talking to a box of smoked salmon and I had trouble getting a signal anyway. Charles Wallace kept on saying that I was stupid for trying to make a confidential phone call near the Falls anyway, and Duncan wanted to get away from the cashier. I gave up and we walked out to Oakes Garden, and I put the call in to Arne.
"May I speak to Violet Agarn?"
"Good, you're here. Meet me at the Movieland Wax Museum, near the horror movie gallery in the back." Then Arne hung up. I told Duncan and Charles Wallace where we were going, and we headed up Clifton Hill. We stood out from the rest of the tourists, especially since Charles Wallace was in a suit in case Arne needed him on stage.
The Movieland Wax Museum was halfway up the hill. We paid admission, hoping pathetically that Arne would pay us back, and we went to the horror movie gallery in the back. There was a really bad waxwork of Lizzie Borden near the exit sign, and I walked over to it. Duncan and Charles Wallace stayed over by the Wolfman scene.
"All right, Arne, we're here. What's going on?" Lizzie Borden put down her axe.
"Wow, you are good. Have you got the envelope?" I said yes, and started to hand it to him. "No, not here. Meet me in a half hour at the House of Lancaster, near the pool tables in the back. I'll explain everything." Arne then walked out the emergency exit.
"I've got a bad feeling about this," I said to Duncan and Charles Wallace after telling them where we'd be meeting Arne next. None of us had any idea where the House of Lancaster was, to begin with. We spent the next half hour looking for a telephone booth with a telephone book, and then trying to figure out exactly where the House of Lancaster was in relation to where we were. We ended up walking into it slightly more than a half hour later.
Arne was in the back, hiding by the jukebox near the pool tables. We went over and demanded an explanation. It was getting late, and Duncan had told his mother that he was only going to be gone for the day; as well, Charles Wallace was getting cranky.
Arne started to explain. He had been at the International Association of Illusionists convention, and had met a former associate of a now-famous (on cable television, at least) magician who had some really spectacular tricks. The former associate promised Arne that he'd transfer the plans for two of them to Arne in return for a certain amount of money and the outline of Arne's disappearing lice trick. However, when he was supposed to make the transfer with this person, he didn't show up, but a few magician enforcers did. Arne went on the run, and he said he had no idea what happened to his original contact.
"Illusionists are vicious--remember that," Arne declared. At that point he looked up, and said, "When I give the word, go out the back door." There were two extremely large men in stage gear coming towards us. "Word!" We bailed into the alley.
Arne had us going from dark bar to dark bar, doubling back over our tracks in attempts to foil our pursuers. We would have been safe in one bar, except that the Canada-Sweden hockey game was on, and Arne cheered too much for Sweden and got us thrown out before our chicken wings arrived. Two bars later, Arne started talking about the OPP's new dead person website, and about how many body parts turn up in the Falls. The bar owner threw us out that time. Duncan called his mother to explain where he was so she wouldn't breach him, and Arne said he'd put in a word for Duncan too. Duncan handed the phone to Arne and Mrs. Anderson started yelling several colourful, if accurate, insults at Arne, but ultimately consented to Arne being responsible for getting Duncan home tomorrow. Arne said he knew a motel we could stay in near the highway in case we had to make a quick getaway. We found Arne's car and drove off to the motel. Arne took a room with Duncan, and I was with Charles Wallace. Charles Wallace was more subdued than usual, and went into bed without any arguments. I went out to the ice machine later and found Duncan wandering around.
"Arne snores. It's awful," he said. We went to my room, which was quieter. I woke up several hours later with Duncan gripping me on one side and Charles Wallace on the other.
We started driving back early Sunday morning. Arne was hiding in the front passenger seat, so I had to drive. Unfortunately Arne forgot that one of the conditions of my G1 licence is that I can't drive on 400-series highways or the Queen Elizabeth Way, so we had to go on Highway 8 through what seemed to be every tiny vineyard in Ontario. I didn't realize there were so many farms, dead raccoons, or craft shows in the province. Charles Wallace and Duncan were playing quietly with Charles Wallace's Blackberry all the way back, and didn't argue once. The drive back took about six hours, and by the time we got back to Milborough, Duncan was just sitting stunned in the back seat of the car, mumbling something about how freedom was over-rated. Charles Wallace agreed.

No types of ambiguity

Duncan was been a wreck all yesterday. At lunch he said that his father's gone, and he and his mother didn't know where he was. He was really worried. I told him I'd call him later (he said he was going to stay home with his mother) after Charles Wallace and I had dinner.
We had a quiet night in. I talked to Duncan, and Charles Wallace played Sims. Around 4:00 a.m. the phone rang. I answered and got the Bell computer saying there was a collect call from Charlotte Brontë. I accepted the charges and asked Arne what was going on.
"How did you know it was me?"
"Lucky guess. Well, what is it? You know that Mom and Dad are in Montreal..." Arne cut me off.
"I know. Don left you the envelope, didn't he? I need the envelope! How fast can you get here?"
"You mean, to Niagara Falls? We'd have to go by bus, you know."
"However you can get here--it's important. "
"All right. But how can I contact you once Charles Wallace and I get there?" Arne gave me a cell phone number ("make sure you ask for Violet Agarn when you call") and hung up. I had trouble going back to sleep after that. Luckily Charles Wallace tends to wake up early. He went to work looking up the bus schedule. It looks like we'll have to go on the sightseeing/casino bus that leaves from in front of the convenience store at Mayes Motors. Maybe Duncan would like to go along to get his mind off things.

The falls

I almost forgot this part: Arne went to Niagara Falls tonight. He phoned while Charles Wallace and I were eating dinner, and said that he was taking off for the Falls after his stupid writing class. He left his hotel information "in case anything happened" and said that he'd be at the International Association of Illusionists conference. He said he had a hot tip on a television-quality illusion, then hung up.
When my parents were leaving this morning, my father gave me an envelope when my mother was going to the car.
"Sandra, just in case anything happens to your uncle, take this. " I asked why. "Arne always has bad luck in Niagara Falls: he really shouldn't go there." My father didn't say anything else, and then my parents left. I didn't tell Charles Wallace about the envelope.
I telephoned Duncan after dinner, and he sounded horrible. His parents were shouting in the background: I think it was over that awful letter. Duncan said he was hiding in the rec room with the cats, listening to Nine Inch Nails. I'll try to cheer him up tomorrow.

The resisting reader

Yesterday we had our last story hour. Zenia and I were shifted to a different school: this time it was King Edward VIII Junior Public, and I won the toss, so I read "The Tell-Tale Heart," and Zenia was forced to end with a really short poem by Baudelaire. The teachers looked very happy when we finished, and the grade one students really got into the story. They were starting to check under the desks for noise when we left.
My parents left this morning for Montreal. My mother left a list of telephone numbers and "helpful information" for me, along with money and their hotel information. My father reminded me to not let Charles Wallace light anything too close to the house again like he did last Victoria Day.
This afternoon I went with Duncan to Dr. Patterson's office to pick up his letter of reference for court. Dr. Patterson looked really happy when he handed it over to Duncan.
"There you go, Duncan! I'm always happy to help my children's friends when they need assistance!" Duncan took the letter and almost forgot to thank him. When we were in the lobby of the medical building, I suggested that Duncan might have wanted to have a look at the letter before going to his lawyer's office. Duncan said no, he was too nervous. Then we walked over to his lawyer's office. We were early: Mrs. Anderson hadn't arrived yet. Duncan was still too nervous about the letter, but once we sat down he said that maybe I should read it and tell him if it was a good reference or not.
It certainly was an interesting letter. According to Dr. Patterson, Duncan is a nice young man who is the son of Nigel Anderson, who has the second-most extensively landscaped HO scale model railroad in Milborough. Nigel Anderson's railway landscaping, Dr. Patterson continued, is a detailed recreation of a typical town in Barbados, with striking stone Anglican churches and cricket pitches. Along one hillside in Nigel Anderson's model railway one can see a tiny goat herd, watched by a tiny waving Duncan. Nigel Anderson's trains, Dr. Patterson wrote, are replicas of 1930s-era British passenger trains made for the Grand Trunk Railway, only two cars shorter than a standard British railway train. Also idiosyncratic in Nigel Anderson's railway setup is his train schedule: according to it, trains run every half hour, when in reality in both Barbados and Britain trains would run on a more irregular schedule. Tiny waving Duncan, Dr. Patterson concluded, is a fine young man and takes good care of his tiny goats.
I gave the letter back to Duncan. Duncan asked if it was a good letter. I said not really. At that moment Mrs. Anderson came in, and I gave her Dr. Patterson's letter. She read it quickly, and then said several colourful if legally liable things about Dr. Patterson's intellect and parentage. Then she asked the legal assistant if she could photocopy the letter. The assistant said yes, and Mrs. Anderson copied the letter, left the original in its envelope with Duncan, and then left to have words with Dr. Patterson. Duncan was really getting worried at that point, but I had to get home since Charles Wallace was on his way home. I felt bad about leaving him, but promised to call him later tonight. When I left the lawyer's office I almost stepped on Eva, who was outside the door muttering something about a buckeroo waiting for the law.

Being boring

I hate Mondays. Of course, in Milborough, Mondays seem to go on all week. I was getting ready to go to school this morning when Charles Wallace said, "Why is the guy who dumped you sitting on the front porch? He must be stupider than I thought." The little twerp was right: Ed was out front. I went out to see what he wanted. It turned out he wanted to show me his car.
"Like my car? Dad just got it for me since I told him I wanted to be a lawyer," Ed said. I told him that yes, it was a nice car (although as it was a Crevasse convertible, molten lumps of lead were better looking). Then Ed asked if I could put in a word with my father to get him a job for the summer. "I can't work at the library anymore now that I'm over 18." At that point I saw Duncan approach the house, see Ed, and then walk away very quickly. Stupid Ed. He can't even get his father to buy him a decent car. I had to find Duncan to explain, but he seemed pretty elusive all morning. I couldn't find him until after lunch. I took him to the janitor's closet to explain.
"Yes, I know that was my ex-boyfriend, but all he wanted to do was show me his car and ask me to ask my father to try to find him a job. It's a stupid car, too." Duncan looked happier at that.
"That's good," he said. "Eva says guys just have to have a good horse, and they strap on cars just like horses."
"That doesn't make any sense. You don't strap on a horse, and you don't strap on a car. Eva really is confused about similes, or obsessed with strap-on items, or something." Duncan said that Eva confuses him a lot. I think it's because her breasts always seem to be at his eye level.

Family values

Today's Mother's Day, so my family and the rest of Milborough went to La Mangerie for brunch. My father said that he and my mother were going to be away for the Victoria Day weekend: "a long-needed break," he said. They're leaving for Montreal on Thursday, and coming back on Tuesday next week. Charles Wallace would have said something, but we were in public.
Now that Ottawa's out of the playoffs, Duncan said he doesn't care about the Stanley Cup. Since the Leafs will probably screw up their playoff chances next season, too, I don't blame him.
I'm going to Tim Hortons to meet Duncan and April--their parents seemed to be the only Milboroughians not at La Mangerie today.

Still not waving

Time seems to congeal here. I added up my community service hours this afternoon and I've got almost enough to graduate. But, since time works in strange ways in Milborough, my 15 hours will probably turn into 3 or something.
Duncan seemed kind of confused all afternoon. He said that his band got together last night to jam with Becky.
"So, the band got back together."
"No, Becky quit. And then we asked Eva to join."
"So the band got back together."
"Sort of," he said. Then he explained that they did a song Becky wrote for him when they went out, and Eva got kind of upset.
"But you're not dating Eva, you're seeing me," I said. Things seemed fairly clear. Duncan shook his head, and said that there was something that made him think sometimes that he was supposed to date Eva. "Is it the smirk reflex? You can get meds for that." He's over to watch the hockey game. Every time Ottawa loses he gets happy.

Great non-expectations

They lied to us when they said story time was only once a week. We had to do it again today. Zenia and I went off again to Beaver Centennial Public School, were led around by the shiny happy teacher, and deposited in the library with the too-small chairs. And Zenia won the toss again on what to read. She read "Carmilla," and explained that it was about a girl vampire. I got to read one Emily Dickinson poem, the one with the first line "one need not be a chamber to be haunted."
I went to my mother's office to meet her after story time. Today the pharmacist was in the waiting room, asking my mother some questions. I settled down on a chair and waited.
"Dr. Larson, what can I do about my son? He's always sick. Now he's got an ear infection, and there's so little that can be done about it." My mother kept a straight face, and suggested some things from the home medical book that they've got at the pharmacy downstairs. Then the pharmacist said that her downstairs neighbours smoked cigars and burned incense.
"And?" my mother asked.
"Well, it must be that," the pharmacist said.
"Well," my mothe said carefully, "unless this cigar smoking person is both your child's daycare provider and lives in your child's room, there is probably another source for the infection. What about your older child?" The pharmacist excused herself suddenly and went out. My mother sighed and asked me how story time went.

Carpe fabulam

It's only Tuesday and I hate this stupid town worse than ever. Yesterday Zenia and I went to Beaver Centennial Public School to do our "story hour." The only good thing about it is that we only have to do it once a week or so. The grade four teacher was pathetically happy to have us there. She ushered us into the library, saying that since "Malcolm" (whoever he was) left to read at the retirement home the students were story-free, or something. I started to ask why the teachers just couldn't read to the students, or let them read silently, but I don't think she was listening.
The library was crowded, and they didn't have any adult-sized chairs for Zenia and me. I had to fold up on the tiny one they gave me, and then Zenia and I fought about what to read. She won, so she read a vampire story, and then let me read "Annabel Lee" when she had a minute left at the end of our allotted time.
We walked together to the downtown, since she had to buy black nail polish at the pharmacy and I was going to get a ride home with my mother. At the drugstore the strange blonde pharmacist came out from the drug area and tried to sell Zenia lice shampoo. Weird.

Foul rag and bone shop

I hate downtown Milborough. Every time our cleaning detail would get one bit of that stupid park clean, someone would throw a Tim Hortons cup or something into the bushes.We continued every day this week, being the principal's poster girls for healthy teenage living. Yesterday the principal turned up at the park around 4:30 p.m., and said he had news for us.
"I'm splitting you up next week."
We just stood and stared at him."You're just making this up as you go along, aren't you?" I asked.
"Well, yes. This week's issue of Canadian Educator had a big story on the newest menace to our high schools: punks and death metal, so next week the punks get the park, and the death metal boys get the lice information stations." We asked what would happen to us, now that we were an unfashionable threat. "Oh, I've got you girls farmed out to the public schools." He was sending Zahava and Zainab to work with grade one sports, and Zenobia and Zapata had to go teach first aid to the grade fives.
"What about us?" Zenia asked. "What do the Brontë nut and I have to do?"
"Oh, you two will be doing weekly story reading at Beaver Centennial Public School. You're the artsy types, you'll love it." Duncan arrived about that time to walk home with me, so I missed Zenobia putting out her cigarette on Queen Victoria and starting a monarchist riot.
Tonight I'm going with Duncan to the Mayes's for a party for a really weird and somewhat disturbing engagement. His ex-girlfriend is inviting all of her exes to the party, so Jeremy'll be there too. I can't imagine wanting to invite Ed to anything I'd be going to with Duncan. Predictably, Charles Wallace wanted to go.
He started whining, "Why do you get to go, Sandra? You're boring."
"I'm going with Duncan, you twerp."
"Why does Uncle Arne get to go?"
"He works for the fiancée to be's father. Now go away. Go kill some Sims or something." He went off to his room, and when I walked by the door he was doing something nasty to the Duncan Sim.

Whipped from tithing to tithing

Who would have thought the downtown would have so much trash in it. We've spent the past two days after school cleaning up the park across from the city hall, then cleaning up Zenobia's and Zapata's cigarette butts. The principal didn't tell us that we'd have hecklers going by us in scooters or with walkers. "Take that, you filthy teenagers!" was the gist of what most of them said, although one old man thought we were a band of Sicilian furies ("Preserve me, oh Lord," was what he said while he crossed himself. Zenia liked him best). Zapata kept taking time outs, claiming that John Fluevogs just weren't made for manual labour.
"I admire you for sticking with the classic, if somewhat dated, Doc Martens look, Zandra," Zapata said. Zahava and Zainab, who were in full candy-goth gear, were ready to drop, too, after a half hour. On day one, Duncan came by with coffee for all of us. He wore his kilt, and volunteered to help.
"God no, not in that outfit. What did you kill to make it smell like that," Zenia said to him. Duncan ignored her and helped me clean up behind the statue of Queen Victoria near the war memorial.
Pretty much the same thing happened today: we cleaned, we were called unspeakable teenagers. Jeremy came by while Zenobia was on a smoke break. He claimed Dirne was around somewhere in disguise, but at least he helped clean up trash. I think he found Dirne, since he wandered off at one point. A suspiciously large amount of the litter consisted of flyers for Arne's shows at the Valhalla. Duncan came by when we were finishing up, and walked me home. "You're lucky," he said, "the principal's got the dungeons and dragons guys all cleaning up the town dump."

Barbarism begins at school

I was hoping to have a normal day, after all the excitement, tension, and threats of drama club. We have a supply teacher for the rest of the year for English, since Mirabell's been Form-37'd. I see two months of reading the anthology ahead. Then, during my spare period, I was told to go to the principal's office. When I got there, Zenia, Zahava, Zainab, Zapata, and Zenobia were already there.
The principal then came in, gripping a piece of paper with a list on it, and seemed a little nervous. "Well, young ladies, it's come to my, and the parents' association's, attention that you all belong to a threatening youth subculture. Now, don't just think of me as your school principal, think of me as your friend, or your friend who happens to be the school principal. What are your goals in life? How can your present mode of dress and attitude help you along to them?" He pointed to Zenia. "What, for instance, is your goal for the future?"
"To drain and devour men's souls, one by one." Zenia was being brief for once. The principal pointed at me.
"What's your goal?"
"To leave Milborough forever, revisiting it only in the form of an accurate but cruel roman a clef. Oh yes, and to live a life of obsession and depression." The principal shook his head.
"That's precisely why we're all worried about you girls. Your habits are anti-social: you, over there, why do you waste your money on cigarettes?" He meant Zenobia.
"I smoke because I'm hoping for an early death," she said.
"And you?" He motioned over to Zapata.
"What she said," Zapata said.
"Honestly: I can't have the press saying I'm doing nothing about the goth menace. Milborough's already got a terrible reputation, what with the electrified rodents, that drama production, and Ontario's worst rate of pharmacy-related accidents. You girls all need community service hours for graduation next year, and you're all going to get them." We all looked at each other confusedly. "Some dentist in town has been going on in the Petfinder about how people around here are spoiled by the amount they throw away, or something like that. I'm sending you girls out to clean Milborough, or at least the downtown, in your "goth" gear, or whatever you call it."
"Why not in our school uniforms, sir?" I asked. Zapata was starting to fume.
"What would be the point of that? I want Milborough to show Canada that you goth kids are public spirited, ecologically minded, and hard working. You start tomorrow after school." The principal looked at the list he had in his hand, and said we could go. As we filed out, I heard him yell at his secretary, "Send in the stoners!"