We So Seldom Look On Love

Ideas of order

2007-08-14T18:28:00.000-07:00

Charles Wallace wants me to go help him measure changes in the space-time continuum over at Duncan's house. I'd rather not. Duncan has been emailing him with odder and odder theories about sink holes, hellmouths, and vortices. My parents have been talking to Duncan's parents a lot, too, but I think it's about the house. My father has power of attorney for the Andersons, and it looks like the house will get sold pretty quickly.

That all happened this morning. This afternoon, my mother got home earlier from the office and then called my father, who got home earlier from his office. Then we went out to dinner, and my mother said she had an announcement.
"Geordie over at the med school has been pestering me all summer to start earlier at the university, and today he called and said there's grant funding for me to start earlier, and a house..."
"A house? Why would a university have a house?" Charles Wallace was being a pain.
"I think Geordie's found the house, with some connection he's got. Anyway, we're moving to Toronto by the end of the month." My brother and I sat stunned. I thought I was getting away from my family, and now they'd be in Toronto before classes started. Charles Wallace was also quiet for a bit.
"Mom, now I have to start all over again with a new set of bullies."
"Maybe not," my father said. "I've called some people over at the University of Toronto Schools. You can sit the exam for the fall next week, and who knows--maybe you'll finally be the bully." This was even worse. My brother would just be on the next block from me. My parents were really excited about getting out of Milborough, and even though all of this meant my brother would be just next door to me at university, I was getting kind of excited about it too. And maybe we'd finally lose Arne.

Half life, remembered

2007-07-03T11:24:00.000-07:00

School seemed to drag on and on this year. I'm not sure why. One day there was a disturbance in the cafeteria and Zenobia and I couldn't get back into the building until classes were over. Zapata said we were lucky to have missed it.
"It was awful. It was so boring I started smoking right there in the cafeteria, since I just didn't care at all. I hate this place."
"We'll be finished with all this next week," Zenobia said. Then Zapata looked upset.
"I forgot to tell you. Do you know what that bastard Eldritch did? We're supposed to be in the same college at Trent, and yesterday he tells me that he got into residence, too, and he's in Catherine Parr Traill! I applied to Champlain College on the understanding that he would be there too! Now I'm stuck living in the ass-end of Peterborough when he's downtown!"
"I don't have a boyfriend at my university," I started to say, but Zapata cut me off.
"You're in downtown Toronto. I'll be in Peterborough!" The conversation wasn't going anywhere at that point, so Zapata stamped off to the parking lot to smoke. Zenobia and I walked out to her car and compared notes on summer jobs. I was back at the library, and she was working at the Chapters at the mall.
"You're lucky," she said. "You only have to shelve a tonne of Harry Potter books. I have to sell the damn things. I'll be at the store until 2:00 AM the night they get released."
"Who do you think gets killed in this one?" I asked.
"Hmm. Harry, Voldemort, a hell of a lot of owls, the entire third form...the list could go on." Since she had to spend so much of the summer here, I was suprised that Zenobia had decided to get coffee at the Starbucks at the Chapters at the mall.
When we had our coffee and sat down, Zenobia asked, "Whatever happened with you not going to Duncan's birthday party? You started to tell the story, but then you stopped and started telling me and Zapata what kind of bookcases you were getting from Ikea to take to U of T."
"Sorry. There's something in the air here that breaks up perfectly interesting stories," I said. I started to explain what happened when I missed Duncan's birthday.
I had meant to go, since things had gotten a lot less tense between us. He seemed to be spending a lot of time with Eva, which was probably a good thing. On the afternoon of the party I was watching Bleak House downstairs when Arne came in.
"I need you to come to Toronto with me. Wilco's busy with that stupid play you got him involved in. He keeps practicing his marks instead of driving." Wilco had graduated from being my driver for A Midsummer Night's Dream while I played Puck to taking over the role of Puck himself (with me as his offstage voice). The role change came after one too many rehearsals with the director screaming at me to "be light, like a bunny" while I was in the motorized wheelchair. It was better being a voice actor than being onstage. Anyway, Wilco was enjoying himself and even got a job in a local theatre group for summer stock. They promised to do papier-mache scenery to scale for him.
I had no idea why Arne needed to go to Toronto right then, and told him so. Ordinarily I wouldn't balk at a trip to the city, but I was wary of going anywhere with Arne. Arne claimed the trip to be entirely above-board, as he had to get equipment for the telethon he was involved in.
"Telethon? I thought Jerry Lewis did that around Labour Day."
"No, no. It's a telethon here, for special needs students or something. I think they need a new bus. Whatever, they're going to have bands and magic, and two stages, and I'm booked on both. We're going to The Magic Box in Etobicoke, and I need you so I can get the student discount." So we drove to Toronto in the T-bird. The Magic Box was in the middle of nowhere, and we couldn't find parking anywhere near it. We ended up leaving the car three blocks away from the shop in front of a house that had been converted into apartments. The back of it was scorched and there were soot-covered children's toys all over the front yard. The T-bird was an improvement.
Arne spent at least two hours picking out equipment. Fortunately I found some books to read through while he tested the linking ring sets. Then Arne had to convince the clerk that all the magic crap on the counter was really for me.
"Honestly, she wants to work her way through school with illusions. It's better than going on the pole," Arne said. Finally the clerk rang everything through and we left the store. We loaded up the car without incident. Then Arne said the fateful words,
"Hey, want a beer? I know this place where they won't card you." I followed that with the fateful words "why not?"
Arne drove downtown and parked near the bus station. "It's a block or two north," he said. We walked by a run-down hotel and a condemned doughnut shop and then ended up at a Victorian house labelled "Blackstone's." "This is it," Arne said. We went in.
It was open mic night. There were men in tuxes sitting waiting for their chance to go up and "illusion" (as Arne put it). He was right, they didn't card me, mostly because they were too busy searching him for lighter fluid. I settled in on a worn velvet banquette and watched the crowd. After a while I noticed that Arne had disappeared. That wasn't good--I didn't have enough cash to get the bus back home, and I had to get to Duncan's party. I got up and went towards the bar, but stopped when I heard a voice from behind the service area.
"Don't do anything sudden. Just act normal," Arne said.
"Where the hell are you? I have to get back to Milborough. I have things to go to, you moron," I said.
"They're here," Arne said.
"Who's here?" This was getting silly.
"The enforcers. You know, the guys I got into trouble with in Niagara Falls. There's a whole team of magician enforcers here, since some idiot announced that he's going to reveal the deadly karaoke spin illusion tonight." Why me, I wondered. Arne explained that we'd have to stay at the bar until at least 10, when the enforcers would go off to another venue looking for loose-lipped magicians. Arne at least promised to get me dinner and to call my parents to explain where I was, but this didn't get me any closer to Duncan's party.
"So," I concluded to Zenobia, "you probably had more fun than I did since I had to watch 15 magicians do the same hankerchief trick over and over again, while my uncle hid in the draught beer lines."

Shadows have offended

2007-05-27T09:33:00.000-07:00

When I got back from the play rehearsal on Friday, I ran into Arne in the kitchen.
"What are you doing here?" I asked.
"Staying here," he said. He was overloading the blender with carrots.
"What happened? I thought Ivar fixed the building," I said.
"He did. Then this week, when I was watching Girls With Low Self Esteem on SpikeCanada, Wilco got all upset, and started staring at this tree near the corner of the building. I think he was trying to warn me that it was rotten. Anyway, the tree crashed, my roof's damaged, and we're here. You've got better cable." Wilco hopped by right then, and I think he smirked, but you can't be sure with rabbits.
I walked into the living room and saw my brother doing something with my father's laptop.
"What are you doing to Dad's laptop?"
Charles Wallace looked up. "I'm circumventing The Beaver's vote-counting protocols so Mom can vote for Brian Mulroney as Worst Canadian as many times as she wants."
"Good. When's she's finished I'll vote for the head of the English department." I had just come from another afternoon of being told to be less tall. The play director was talking about trying something with wheels for me to be onstage. It didn't sound like it would work, but Jeremy said he'd give it a try.

In the bleak midvernal

2007-05-24T14:46:00.000-07:00

I keep on trying to get out, but they keep pulling me back in. Last week my marking job was terminated. I was too tough on the grade 9s, apparently. I had more spare time, at least, so I could research summer jobs. I wasn't sure if I would still be at the public library, since I was starting university in the fall. Then yesterday, when I was helping Zenobia pick out a laptop to take to Waterloo, the head of the English department came up behind us in the library.
"Miss Larson," he said portentiously. I started.
"Oh, what now," I asked. "Did Steve Harper say I broke the gestetner again, because it's not true."
"No, the duplicating equipment is fine. But we do need a favour again." When did Al Pacino become head of my high school English department, I thought.
"Yes?" Zenobia was trying not to laugh at the tutoring table.
"We're having some problems with the drama club's Shakespeare production..." I had a bad feeling about what was coming next.
"Do I have to act again?"
"Yes. Half the cast finished their community service on Monday, so we're down quite a few roles. Here's your script." He handed me a bulky envelope. I opened it and pulled out a badly-gestetnered script.
"You want me to play Puck?! What the hell?!"
"I know, it's a stretch, but none of the other problem students can handle so large a role."
"I'm five foot ten, and female. How the hell am I supposed to be convincing as a fairy, who happens to be male?" This was not looking good at all.
"I'm sure the director will think of something." This was worse than Arne's "Lunenberg Lobster" illusion. "This will all be worth your while, Miss Larson."
"It better be. I'm so glad this is my last year here." The department head said something about the library job, and left. Zenobia starting giggling once he was out the library door.
"I know, I know. Beat me, whip me, make me act Shakespeare. How come the math department doesn't do this shit to you?"
"I'm just waiting to see how you'll look as a tiny, tiny man. I think you're taller than everyone they've got in that production."
"You could at least pretend to feel sorry for me, Zenobia." She kept on giggling, even on her way out to have a cigarette.

Anyone may blame me who likes

2007-04-27T20:45:00.000-07:00

The stupid therapist my parents sent me to has suggested that I go back to my online writing since putting things into narrative form is good, and helps define and shape experience and fears. Well, that was the way he put it. I haven't been writing since I've been busy. I've had papers to mark, but I'm not really supposed to be doing that.
Last week, when I was at the Learning Resources Centre table with Zenobia, the English teacher who's stuck with the Drama Club this year came up and said he had an offer I couldn't refuse.
"Or what? I get a horse's head in my locker?"
"Very funny, young lady. The principal said you were the student with the highest English average in the school. I need you to do some work for the department."
"What kind of work?" This sounded weird. Zenobia excused her current tutoring subject and started to listen in.
"This year's drama club production has turned out to be a lot more time-consuming than we all thought. I'm spending a considerable amount of overtime making sure nothing catches on fire like last year."
"Nothing caught on fire. It was a malfunctioning fog machine," I said.
"Whatever. The end result is, I have two classes worth of grade 9 students who need to be graded, and you're the only person around to do it," he said.
"You do realize I'm not a teacher, and I don't even have a high school diploma, let alone a B.A.," I said.
"Oh, I know. Other school districts have done this, so I think it's all right." I paused for a minute.
"Other school districts on television, you mean. This doesn't sound very legal," I said. The English teacher drew himself up and glared at me.
"Ms. Larson, you can mark the grade 9 students, or you can be the tallest Peaseblossom any production of A Midsummer's Night Dream has ever featured. The choice is yours." It wasn't really a choice, so I agreed to mark papers. Zenobia said she was lucky that the math department didn't do any theatre. We talked about how things were with our therapists, and how Zapata really should be seeing one. She had been depressed ever since Jeremy Jones started dating again.
"He can't do that!" she shrieked. Zenobia reminded her that Jeremy was a free agent and that Zapata already had a boyfriend. "It's not fair. You two get to see Jeremy all the time when you tutor him, and I don't." Variations of this went on every week or so.
My brother was sulking again, but this time because Duncan's online posts were getting boring. Arne had given Charles Wallace a talk about girls and art, which was his awkward but kind of nice way of explaining that I did the right thing in breaking up with Duncan. Arne told Charles Wallace that I had released Duncan to follow his music, and Duncan should appreciate that. Of course, Arne put it that I realized I was boring and just holding Duncan back. Now Charles Wallace just fumes when he reads Duncan going on about Eva Abuya's family.
"I could do that, but I don't feel like it," he said, "Anyone can do a 419. It's easy."

Far from the madding crowd

2007-03-19T15:25:00.000-07:00

I knew last Friday that Arne had returned, but not any details. My mother and father left for Florida soon afterward. Charles Wallace wasn't speaking to me, or at least wasn't speaking directly. He stuck to reading aloud from Duncan's posts on April's blog.
"I get the point. He's having a great time, made even greater by the fact that I'm not there," I said. Duncan was being really nasty at this point in his posts. Wilco got agitated and ran to the front door right then. "What's wrong, Wilco," I asked. Charles Wallace opened the door and Arne strode in. "Oh, that's what's wrong."
"Hey, sorry, I've got to stay with you guys for a few days," Arne said.
"Why now? I'm miserable, he's a pest, only Wilco's perfectly bearable," I said.
"Hey, your life may be in the shit, but I'm really in trouble. Ivar's closed the building for construction, rewiring, health code violations, you name it, it's happened to the Three Kronen. Oh, there's no karaoke this week, so you're out $15 bucks or however much he was giving you."
"What?"
"Some moron shoved a plastic doll in the Three Kronen's septic system, which set off the water sprinkler system, which shorted out the wiring, which started a fire, which burned out the kitchen, which happens to be right under my apartment. So it's either here or the car, and it's cold outside." There wasn't much to say at that point. I went to help Arne get his Maritimes souvenirs out of the car and into the basement.
"What did you do, buy every plastic lobster in Nova Scotia?"
"I need them for an illusion I've been working on. I need a place to practise it, preferably a closed business with a big parking lot."

Let be the finale of seem

2007-03-19T07:09:00.000-07:00

My mother and father got back from Florida last night. At least they enjoyed themselves. As they were pulling into the driveway, Arne ran in at the back door.
"I'm not here, you don't know me, and don't mention the Dairy Queen," he said, and ran into the basement. About a minute or so later, my father asked why Arne's car was parked in the Stewarts' driveway.
Charles Wallace and I were watching Labyrinto de los novios with Wilco in the living room.
"Sandra, why are you and your brother watching something in Spanish?" my mother asked.
"Oh, no reason," I said. Wilco was happier with this episode than he was with the last one. There were still shards from the vase scattered in front of the television from that one. Luckily my mother didn't see them. She told us to make sure Wilco didn't go to sleep on the couch and went upstairs to unpack. After Labyrinto de los novios I changed the channel to CP24. The lead story was about a flash fire hitting a Dairy Queen in a southern Ontario suburb.
"Do you think..." Charles Wallace started.
"That this has something to do with Arne? Of course," I said. But why burn a Dairy Queen during the off-season?

Something must break

2007-03-10T01:00:00.000-08:00

Time crawls when you’re not having fun. I noticed this during March Break in Florida two years ago, and it’s happening now. It’s been a long week. School drags, since March break is about to start. My mother and father are going to Florida for Spring training, and whatever my mother does whenever my father is watching baseball games that don’t count and making endless notes about them. They leave on Sunday morning, and I’m left with Charles Wallace for the week.
Charles Wallace, for his part, has been reading aloud from April’s blog for me. I gather from his interpretive readings that I’m not supposed to be reading the blog firsthand.
“I’m not reading this, you’re reading it to me. What does Duncan have to complain about?” I said to my brother.
“You broke up with him. You’ve made him listen to that weird music with the whining guitar in it—he kept singing about walking after midnight, and having the lovesick blues, and that he’ll have to go.”
“Country. Damn.”
Zapata maneuvered Jeremy into giving her tickets for a show this week. We all went, since Zapata out-maneuvered herself and Jeremy came up with more comps. Then she kind of got him to go to 300 tonight, but Eldritch decided to go too so Zenobia and I went along. Zapata really got into the Persian soldier killing. She kept poking me and saying, “Look, he’s got purple lips! He’s got to go!”
“Shut up, Zapata,” Eldritch said. “I can’t hear the movie.”
“I’m supporting my friends, so live with it,” Zapata said.
I felt really worn out after the movie, but I had to go do karaoke at the Three Kronen. Zenobia, Zapata, Eldritch, and Jeremy came along. It was the same as usual: a lot of people doing inappropriate Abba songs, and Wilco getting giddy on carrot shooters. At the end of the evening Duncan turned up. Luckily Zenobia was in the washroom right then, and Zapata and Eldritch were doing the evening’s one non-Swedish song. As Zapata sang, “I Got You Babe,” Duncan started to argue with Jeremy. I was at the bar with Wilco. Jeremy was getting angry, Duncan was angry, and I had to hold Wilco back from doing his newest form of self-defense. Jeremy and Duncan went over to the broken cigarette machine, and Ivar came over to talk to me once they started arguing really loudly.
“I feel really bad about this, since you’re a nice girl, but I have to let you go. I can’t have this drama happening every week with karaoke—it scares the regulars." Right then Duncan yelled, "Stay away from my ex-girlfriend," and slipped on a beer puddle. Ivar sighed. "Your uncle had something, I’m not sure what…” Right then a voice behind us said,
“Magic, perhaps?” I smelled the distinctive odor of lighter fluid. Arne was back.

Towards the within

2007-03-05T13:20:00.000-08:00

Zenobia decided that yesterday was a good time to go see Zenia. I reminded her that Zapata had tried that the day before.
“Zapata said that that was Eva’s idea, and Eva screwed it all up. This time, I’m driving. We need to get some books from their library anyway. Remember the history project I keep on putting off?”
“All right. I’ll go with you two, but I don’t expect anything good to come out of it.” Trying to reason with Zenia was like trying to reason with an avalanche. I had no idea of what we were trying to do, besides. I still felt hungover, but this was something to do. I went downstairs and waited to Zenobia to pick me up. Charles Wallace was acting more secretive than usual, and ducked into the kitchen when he saw me. I had left Wilco upstairs with the computer, since the cat was wandering around; I didn’t know what Wilco would do to Blake if he got mad.

We picked up Zapata and drove out to the university. Mackenzie Bowell was out in the middle of a dairy field or something about ten minutes out of Milborough. The university had a tower, a few ultra modern connected buildings, and a series of high-rise student residences. We parked in the visitors lot at Picton Hall and went to find Zenia. Zapata pointed out where Eva had insisted on hiding near the entrance.
“Supervillain relatives my ass. She just wanted to drag Duncan out of Zenia’s bed herself.” Zenobia called up to Zenia’s room. After a minute or so, she turned around and said that Zenia’s room was on the sixth floor and she’d be waiting.

Zenia was waiting at her door. “Well, it’s the Three Gothkateers: Charlotte Brontë, Trinity, and…” Zenia stopped there, squinted at Zapata, and continued, “Evil Willow. What’s brought you here to MacBowell?” She was perfectly dressed, as always.
“You know what it is, Zenia,” Zapata began.
“Oh, that. I thought you’d be happy that I waited until you were through with him, Zandra. I won’t be needing him anymore, if you were wondering.” The three of us looked at each other. Zenia spoke again. "I don't suppose any of you will be joining me here this fall." We nodded. "Let me guess: Zandra--the University of Toronto. Victoria or Trinity?"
"Trinity."
"And Zenobia. Waterloo, but is it computing or engineering?" Zenobia said computing. Zenia squinted a bit at Zapata again. "I give up. I've never been able to figure you out."
Zapata smirked a bit, then said, "Trent. Cultural studies. With Eldritch."
"Well, didn't see that one coming. You still haven't told me why you're all here on a Sunday. What gives?" Zenobia and I stared at each other, while Zapata started glaring at Zenia.
"You know what it is--stay away from Jeremy Jones." Zenobia and I traded confused looks.
"That's what you got us out here for? Jeremy's a great guy and all, but I think he can take care of himself. He's survived a hell of lot Milborough's thrown at him," I said.
"You keep your hands off him, too," Zapata said.
"I'm leaving right now," Zenobia said. "Zenia, we'll discuss that science project later." Zenobia started to drag Zapata down the hallway.
"Zandra, wait a minute," Zenia said.
"All right," I said.
"Sorry about Duncan and all that. I didn't think he'd get so attached to me so fast. But isn't this better?"
"Better than what? He's grounded, he hates me, he's in a pit of despair..."
"It lacks a bit of finesse, I know, but now you won't go and get back together with him and have a nastier bit of breaking up to do later. It's better this way." Zenia had her reasons, hard as they might be to figure out. The only thing consistent was the ruthlessness.
I caught up with Zenobia and Zapata in time for the argument.
"Seriously, Zapata, you can't put dibs in on every male in the high school. You've already got a boyfriend, so why do you need backup?"
"Jeremy's mine, not yours, and not Zandra's. I may not tutor him, but I understand him." That was arguable, but I wasn't going to say anything about it. Zenobia fumed as she drove us back to Milborough.
I got home and found a mess in my room.
"Charles Wallace, you fed Wilco on my bed!" My brother came out from his room.
"You weren't using it, so I thought it would keep his kibble out of Blake's way."
"You fed him on my floor, too. What's going on?" Charles Wallace went back to his room, chuckling sinisterly. I tried to clean the kibble up. I don't think I succeeded, since Jeremy pointed out I had some in my hair when I got to school. Damn.

Call this firepile a home

2007-03-03T15:00:00.000-08:00

I wandered downstairs around noon. I needed another bottle of water, since it wasn't likely anyone was going to get me a bottle of Chateau Screwtop right then. My parents were in the family room reading the paper.
"Do I have to go back to school on Monday? I got my university acceptance," I said.
My parents said that yes, I had to go back. "What if I can't? I don't want to see anyone, I feel awful, I get anxiety attacks just thinking of being at school now."
"Well, Sandra, you probably should think about going back to the therapist, not the one the school had you go to, but the one you went to before," my father said.
"I hate therapy. All they want to do is fix me," I said. My mother looked worried.
"Maybe I should ask Miranda to ask Duncan to tone down his online writing," she said.
"No, she already knows we've got an overly-emotional daughter: Sandra, just don't read it," my father said. "This is just standard teenage drama, and you'll get over it."
"Like Mom got over you never doing anything stupid and romantic for her?" I asked. My father was being more rational than he needed to be.
"She's right, Don. I remember how I was at her age."
"Emily, you were agonizing over your MCATs at her age. When I met you, you seemed more grounded than any other girl at university," my father said. My parents were slowly heading towards another argument, but I didn't care; I waited to see if my mother was going to rise to the bait. She did.
"Don, you just weren't paying any attention. You never picked up on anything then, and you're just trying to rationalize everything now." I went back to my room to let them argue it out. Charles Wallace wandered by a bit later.
"You did it again. Now they'll stay mad all weekend."

I'm so sorry I'm cardiac baggage

2007-03-03T09:41:00.000-08:00

I was feeling a bit better until Charles Wallace came in.
"Look what you did," he said accusingly, and then he moved Wilco from in front of the computer.
"What did I do? I've been throwing up or passing out for the past day," I said. "Is Zenobia mad that I vomited her present?" Charles Wallace read from Duncan's posts on April's blog.
"You snitched on him. Why did you do it?" my brother asked.
"I did not snitch on him. I told Mom Duncan was with Zenia. She said that wasn't too upsetting, but then Wilco brought some stuff up on the computer...Hey, Wilco did it!"
"Nice try, but nobody's going to believe the rabbit did it," Charles Wallace said. He was right. I was the catalyst, and now Duncan lost his March break trip and was probably grounded for life or something. Then Charles Wallace read the comment Duncan made on my previous post. "Do you really only care about getting into U of T?"
"Great. I need another large bottle of cheap wine," I groaned.

The reptile house

2007-03-03T08:48:00.000-08:00

I feel like I've had a ten-tonne truck crash into me. It's a few steps up from yesterday. Wilco's been tapping on an envelope on my desk for a few minutes now. I forgot to look at the mail.

Now I feel a lot better. I got accepted into U of T, so I'll be at Trinity College this fall. Now I've got to sort out what residence to live in, since I doubt my parents will let me live off campus until second year. I guess Zenia's right: I'm too concerned about school to do anything serious revenge-wise. I wonder what's happened to Duncan so far. The longest Zenia's ever given a guy was about three days before the brutal dumping experience.

My teeth feel like they've got little cashmere sweaters on them. I need another bottle of water.

The better part

2007-03-02T23:20:00.000-08:00

Zapata just called, saying something about a posse. I got really dizzy and got off the telephone quickly. It sounded like more like something Eva would come up with, actually, since Zapata would just want to round up a mob. I need another bottle of water.

Just like everybody else does

2007-03-02T23:00:00.000-08:00

I feel horrible. Part of that is from drinking the entire 1.5 litre bottle of Bull's Blood Zenobia gave me for my birthday. She said she asked her sister Serena to pick it up in the States for me. It tasted great the first time, at least.
I couldn't hold it together any more. I knew I'd broken up with Duncan, and I started all this, but I didn't know what to do about Zenia and then Zenia sort of threw it all in my face again when I went to Tim Horton's on Sunday. I couldn't talk to anyone and couldn't really face seeing anyone, so I left school once my last real class was over and went home. It seemed like the best time to drink a lot of Hungarian wine. I had a couple shots of the Bailey's Irish Cream my parents left in the fridge, too. I didn't care.
I think I must have left my bedroom door open, since after a while I felt hopping on the floor next to me. I collapsed and was crying, I think. I know I was on the floor. After a bit my mother was suddenly there, and she picked me up off the floor and helped me into bed right before I had to throw up. I think Wilco was there in the bathroom with me, but I'm not sure.
My mother said that I kept on saying Duncan was at Zenia's for the weekend, but she didn't think that was all that bad until Wilco hopped up to my computer and found her the website with her after school photos. My mother admitted that she isn't up to date with her university strippers, and decided to call Duncan's mother. Right now I'm in bed, with Wilco sitting on the desk watching me and posting to the Labyrinto de los Novios board. I may sit up and watch the show with him later.

Fragments against ruin

2007-02-28T15:00:00.000-08:00

I couldn't believe that Duncan had willingly gone off with Zenia. I tried to figure out what happened.
"You broke up with him, Sandra. He can do whatever he wants," Charles Wallace said later.
"Even if it's to fall into the clutches of a being who will use him like a cheap tissue?"
"If you're so worried," he said, "you could warn him."
"He won't listen. You saw his blog," I said, pointing out Duncan's revised biography.
"Yes, and he doesn't know how to use HTML either."
"You're no help, Charles Wallace. I'll ask Mom. Don't let Wilco get rabbit kibble on my keyboard." I went downstairs to the family room, where my mother was reading the paper. I asked her what I should do.
"No, Sandra, I haven't had any experience with soul-sucking succubi."
"But what about Aunt Anne?"
"She was just acting like a typical younger sister, no matter what I said when I was sixteen."
I wasn't really getting anywhere with family members, so I decided to call Jeremy Jones.
"It's about Zenia, isn't it?" he asked.
"How'd you know?"
"Duncan's posting all over that she's his true love, and Zenia tried to walk off with Eldritch on Friday, according to Zapata," Jeremy said.
"Zenia must have had a dull reading week," I said.
"I thought all of you Z-girls were friends with her. I don't understand this," Jeremy said.
"We were friends, really. Zenia was so smart, and so cool: Zenobia and I sort of had crushes on her. Not Zapata, though: she always had Eldritch, but Zenia did tell her to get rid of her first name."
"So what's Zapata's first name?" Jeremy asked.
"Don't tell her I told you. It's Emiliana." Jeremy asked what went wrong. "You know what went wrong--first Zenia took Ed, and then she kind of forced Zenobia to do a science project for her and then held the whole plagiarism thing over her head."
"What did she do to Zapata?" Jeremy asked.
"Not much then, but she threatens to take Eldritch every once in a while. That freaks her out more," I said.
Zenobia and Zapata understood everything perfectly. They even started betting on when Zenia would wring the hope out of Duncan.
"I give him two days," Zenobia said.
"Hell, she'll dump him in a day," Zapata said. They asked what I was going to do to him. I said I couldn't think of anything worse than what Zenia had in store for him.
"Oh, I can," Zapata said.

In shock

2007-02-27T13:37:00.000-08:00

I wish Newton's laws of motion applied to this stupid town. Just when you think things can't possibly get worse in Milborough, they proceed to do so. I went to meet Duncan on Sunday at the Tim Hortons. I wanted to tell him that the poems didn't work, I was sorry, and we just couldn't get back together right now, or ever. For some reason Charles Wallace wanted to go to the Tim Hortons with me.
"It'll be boring, and fast. I don't know why you want to go with me."
"No reason. Could you drive fast?" he asked. We took the Saab and promised my father a Canadian maple doughnut and a double double. Charles Wallace was acting both secretive and excited, which was strange. He also didn't have his Blackberry with him.
We got to the Tim Hortons without seeing any police, which itself was a surprise as I was going about 15 kms over the speed limit. I was giving Charles Wallace money for doughnuts and coffee when I looked across the seating area and saw Duncan. He didn't see me, but Zenia, who had her tongue down his throat, saw me. She dislodged her tongue and moved her hand over to Duncan's groin.
"Oh, Zandra. What a surprise." Duncan looked at me, then at Zenia, and then tried to get under the table. Unfortunately Zenia appeared to be holding him up by his zipper.
"Reading week, you know," she continued. "We went over to Buffalo," she started as I grabbed my brother.
"But I didn't get the doughnuts!" he said.
"I don't care, we're leaving," I said. Zenia continued to look at me like we were actually having a conversation.
"You had broken up with him, Zandra, it's not like he wasn't available or anything," she said.
"Just let me leave, before I..."
"Before you what? I don't think your pathological fear of getting into academic-future-related trouble is going to let you do anything," she said. "And roman-a-clef threats don't work on me, remember." Duncan was stuttering something about gifts, shirts, and Charles Wallace's Blackberry. My brother retrieved the Blackberry and a shirt from Duncan's backpack before I pulled him through the door.
"I can't believe I just saw that," I said as I started the car.
"Well, he did go to Buffalo with Zenia," Charles Wallace said.
"How'd you know that?"
"You really should pay more attention to April Patterson's blog, Sandra. Duncan wrote that he was going to Buffalo to go get stuff to try to win you back, only he went with Zenia. He borrowed my Blackberry, too."
"This is worse than the time he thought he was dating Eva. Zenia's a weapon of mass destruction, but he invited her in, so he's not totally innocent." I felt like I was dead haunting the Tim Hortons.
"Sandra, are you just going to gun the engine with the brake on or are you going to take us home?" Charles Wallace asked.

Lloyd, I'm ready to be heartbroken

2007-02-24T14:43:00.000-08:00

I just got in from Toronto. We met my aunt Anne downtown and had coffee with her and Enid. My mother and my aunt discussed my grandfather's upcoming visit.
"There aren't any major sports events going on this summer, are there?" Aunt Anne asked.
"I don't think so. The Euro is next year," my mother said. After coffee I went to HMV with Enid and told her about Duncan and his poems. She said that the poetry was a bad sign. Aunt Anne and Uncle Roger gave me Rhino Records' boxset A Life Less Lived for my birthday, and Enid got me Jane Eyre with illustrations by Dame Darcy. The weather started getting really bad when we met up with my mother and aunt.
Charles Wallace just gave me a note from Duncan asking me to meet him at Tim Horton's tomorrow evening. I will go meet him tomorrow, and explain more about why I don't want to get back together with him. I've had all week to feel horrible about it and I'm pretty sure I made the right decision.

Heaven knows I'm miserable now

2007-02-24T12:14:00.000-08:00

Well, that's been a hellish week. My parents insisted on me going to school, since breaking up with someone is not technically a health issue. Charles Wallace has been glaring at me all week since he likes Duncan. He said that if he were a gambler he'd put money on me getting back with Duncan.
"I don't think so. He keeps giving me these awful poems and he forgot my birthday," I said.
"I forgot your birthday, too," he said.
"That's different. You're my sociopathic younger brother. I'd worry if you remembered it," I said. My parents remembered, but they're supposed to. Later this afternoon I'm going to Toronto with my mother to go shopping. Arne's still somewhere in the Maritimes, so that's good. Wilco's been very considerate, when he hasn't been getting hostile on the computer. I didn't know rabbits could write such vitriolic reviews of television programmes. Labyrinto de los novios wrapped up its trial storyline in about a minute on one episode, it seems, and Wilco was furious. I can't keep track of the number of novios the women on that programme have, but Wilco can.

That joke isn't funny anymore

2007-02-15T19:03:00.000-08:00

I still feel awful. I talked to Zenobia a lot between classes and between her cigarettes. She said that her therapist told her to try to write everything down if something bad happens, since then the whole story is there and you can try to figure out where the plot went wrong. I told Zenobia I thought the plot went wrong when I was born. She said that her therapist said in case of that to just start somewhere later, try to recount the story, and then put it in the "mistake" file in the mental filing cabinet, and then you could start over again with a fresh pad and a new set of filing folders, side labels, and a new ink cartridge.
"Zenobia, who certified your therapist? Staples?" This wasn't helping. It got worse when we were tutoring. Jeremy Jones did his Duncan impression for Zenobia and I fell apart. I went right after tutoring and shut myself in my room and locked the door.
So this is what happened. I just stared at the saxophone for a while, and then put it in the living room. Wilco picked it up and started to play with it.
"Oh, you do that, too. Why is the most urbane, intelligent male in my life a rabbit?" I was just stunned. My father walked into the room then.
"What on earth is that? It smells like the time Arne screwed up his beer keg escape trick in the basement of the CN tower."
"It's a mouldy saxophone, Dad. Duncan gave it to me for Valentine's Day."
"It was a joke, right?" I remembered then that my father had been emotionally scarred by forgetting Valentine's Day the first year he was married to my mother.
"No, Dad, it wasn't a joke, and it's awful." I just had to leave the room right then.

I had a bath to try to feel better. I just kept on thinking about Duncan and the things we did together, but all I saw was the way the band, and the way it took up all his time and his mind, until the bathwater went cold all around me. I got out of the tub and got dressed and tried to read some H. P. Lovecraft to cheer up.
The doorbell rang when I got to the point of thinking I wanted to move to Arkham. Charles Wallace was helping our father set up some spreadsheets so I got the door.
It was Duncan.
"Zedwillyoumarryme?" he said really quickly.
"What?" I didn't expect this at all. Duncan went into his coat pocket and pulled out a twist-tie.
"Will you marry me? I don't have a real ring yet." I just stood there. Then I finally came out of it.
"No, Duncan, I won't marry you. I'm not even 17 yet. You're not even 16 yet. We haven't even finished high school. This is insane." Now he just stood there.
"Why," he said finally.
"I'm sorry Duncan, I really am. I feel really bad letting you know. You're just not really there anymore. We're not really together. This hurts a lot right now, but I can't go on like this anymore and the saxophone was just the last thing." I was starting to cry so I had to go inside. My father had come into the room for something and told Duncan goodbye.
I feel horrible, but I didn't know what else to do. It's like we were in separate parts of the province, or something: we just didn't share the same things anymore.

Atmosphere

2007-02-14T19:41:00.000-08:00

I still can't process what has gone on today. I'm still ill.

Avalanche

2007-02-14T13:00:00.000-08:00

I’m trying to sort out my feelings about this Valentine’s Day and everything. I really have to think about this.
The weather is awful, so we had one of Milborough’s all-too-rare snow days. Charles Wallace and I were home. My mother had to go to the hospital early, since the reports coming in from the 415 (the nearest highway near us) were really bad. My father stayed home from work and sat down with the laptop to check early scouting reports for the baseball season.
Around 9 or so Duncan came over. I got out the present I had for him, and gave it to him after he got off his coat.
“Strings! Cool! And a new bass strap! And one of those cool new pickups! Wow! This is great!” He had a big package behind him. “This is really, really, great, you know. I thought you were more interested in music than you said, and this proves it. Wait til you see this!” He pulled out the package at that point. “Go ahead—open it.”
I opened the package to see another package. A leathery mould-covered package. I opened that up and pulled out a saxophone. The vestibule started to smell like a bar basement.
“You can play this: we really need a horn player to sound better, and you’re into all this, I can see,” Duncan said. I just stared at the saxophone. Duncan had put some reeds in the mouldier bit of the case. Fortunately his cellphone rang just then. He answered, apologized a few times while getting his coat on, and left. “So, what do you think?” he asked as he went out the door.
“Well, this has taken our relationship to a new level,” I said. I shut the door and put down the saxophone. Wilco hopped downstairs to look at it. “Oh Wilco, what am I going to do with a mouldy saxophone that I can’t even play?” Wilco picked up the package of reeds and then dropped it. “You’re right, you know.”

A side wins

2007-02-10T14:54:00.000-08:00

I was watching television with Wilco when Charles Wallace came in.
"Sandra, have a look at this thing I found online." I turned off the television and followed him; Wilco hopped off the couch and followed me. Charles Wallace had found a story about an attempt to hold the world's largest pub crawl in Halifax this weekend.
"Oh shit," I said. "So you think there'll be a story about someone being charged with attempting the world's largest vanishing act?"
"Oh, probably," Charles Wallace said. Wilco hopped up to the desktop and started typing.
"Arne never said he did that, too," I said.
"He's kind of slow, though. It's probably because he doesn't have opposable thumbs." We looked to see what Wilco wanted.
"Oh, he's just on the Labyrinto de los novios boards. He's looking for spoilers for next week's episodes," I said. According to the spoilers, next week the elderly parents of one of the characters would be featured, as the show would deal with hearts, strokes, aphasia, and the fact that Spanish doesn't lend itself to puns. Wilco was tapping in his response. "Conejo rabido? Good lord. He's consistent, at least," I said.
"Yes, he's complaining about plot structure. Are you sure the SAS trained him? I think he's the product of a secret literary critic experiment," my brother said. At that point my mother walked into Charles Wallace's room.
"Charles Wallace, get that rabbit off the desk. Sandra, have you finished up your homework?" (I had.)
"Mom, what do you want for Valentine's Day?" Charles Wallace asked.
"Charles Wallace, I am not your girlfriend. I have a birthday, and there's Mother's Day," my mother said. She was pretty testy for a Sunday. When I went into the kitchen I found out why. My father was on the telephone with Arne, who was currently speeding through New Brunswick after making several Halifax police department vehicles disappear.

The sea bound coast

2007-02-09T14:09:00.000-08:00

Every week I go to the Three Kronen hoping karaoke will be uneventful and every week something happens to make me want to hide under my bed for the next year or so. Tonight was no exception. I got to the bar and Ivar said he hadn't seen Arne in a few days. Ivar gave me the keys to Arne's apartment and I went upstairs (Duncan had arrived at that time, and he walked up with me.)
Wilco was there alone, in his rabbit cage. He was batting his paws against the door and pointing at a pile of junk on the coffee table.
"Wow: he's hopping mad," Duncan said, and then apologized. "I've been hanging around Pattersons a lot lately. I can't help the bad puns."
"Well, just hold them for now," I said.
"What is he pointing at?" Duncan said. "OK, Wilco, what is it? Arne ran off to make the Toronto Sun disappear? [Wilco shook his head]. Arne's gone to buy beer?"[Wilco shook his head again, and made a face at Duncan]
"Let me get a better look at the table," I said. Besides the newspaper and the empties, there was a pile of change and a road map. I picked up the roadmap. "Nova Scotia?" Wilco started bouncing excitedly. "OK, maybe the change will tell me something. It's all dimes..." Wilco started jumping up and down. "He's going to Nova Scotia to make a bunch of dimes disappear?" Wilco threw a rabbit kibble bit at me. "All right, Wilco. I'll try to put everything together. Road map of Nova Scotia, dimes, beer...oh my god, he's going to make the Bluenose vanish." I got paws up from Wilco.

The tell tale heart

2007-02-08T13:51:00.000-08:00

Love is in the air, like a bed of rotting roses. Compulsory romance waits to entrap us all. It's the week before Valentine's Day. At lunch Zapata stared into space and asked, "What's the most romantic movie you can think of?" Jeremy Jones walked by at that point and Zapata grabbed him and made him sit down, all in one efficient movement.
"Why torture Jeremy with this? Haven't you asked him enough things?" I asked. Jeremy just looked resigned. Zapata saw that neither Zenobia nor I was about to talk romance films so she did.
"I think The English Patient is just so wonderful. I mean, what an enduring love! She changed his entire life! That's so romantic! What's wrong with it?"
"It's full of sand, and it's too bright," Zenobia said.
"And the plane crashed, and she was injured, and he left her in a cave for three years, then came back for the amazing extra plane he had stashed there, and explaining that he was sorry, but he had rehearsal and it was going really well and all the band sounds so good together and they just blend perfectly and he just didn't notice it was oh, a day after the date he was supposed to show up for..." I stopped there since Zapata, Zenobia, and Jeremy were staring at me. "Well, I don't think it's all that romantic a film."

Fun fantasy confusion catastrophe

2007-02-03T12:20:00.000-08:00

Maybe it’s not a good idea to work karaoke with people I know. I’m not sure. Duncan didn’t tell me he’d asked Wilco to go get April for last night’s session at the Three Kronen. I wondered why Wilco hopped out in such a hurry. Arne was pretty distracted, since he was trying to fix up a magician gig on his cellphone between (and eventually during) introductions to songs. Once April arrived, she prompted Duncan to take over the mc-ing and Arne was left to schedule and wheedle in peace.
For some reason, Zapata’s boyfriend Eldritch turned up. I guess he got tired of Zapata asking him over and over again if he still loved her. Eldritch waved and walked over to me for a song catalogue.
“It’s mostly Swedish-oriented, but there might be some other stuff,” I said. Eldritch spent a few minutes going through the songs and settled on one.
“Can you help me with this one? You’re better at languages than I am,” he asked. It seemed harmless enough, and I wouldn’t have to actually sing, so I said yes. Duncan looked pretty surprised when he introduced Eldritch and me, but he got over it quickly and started tapping out a bassline to April.
I had just started doing the Spanish lines for “Should I Stay Or Should I Go” when Zapata burst into the bar. Jeremy Jones was following her; he tried to hold her back but she shook him off and jumped on the stage.
“You bitch! That’s my boyfriend! Eldritch, leave that skank’s face alone!” Eldritch stopped singing and looked really confused. Zapata was swinging at my gut but Wilco hopped from the bar at that point and pinned her down. “Get the rabbit off me, you bitch!” Zapata yelled. “Just because your boyfriend wants to take April to Bermuda or whatever doesn’t mean you can steal my boyfriend!” I guess Wilco was doing one of the seven forms of hand-to-paw combat he knows. Eldritch started talking her down and I went to the washroom. April came in right afterward.
“I didn’t know Duncan didn’t tell you he asked me to come out,” she said. “And it was really uncube for him to ask me about going off to Barbados at March break with him and not ask you. Sometimes he just doesn’t think, you know.”
“I know,” I said. “I’m not really sure about anything anymore. Everything’s so confusing. Sometimes I think I just want to be an amoeba.” April was about to say something but Zapata burst in and started crying, or apologizing. April and I went back out and started going through the stack of requests that came in while we were in the washroom. Ole Svenson was still going on about catfights, and Arne was getting Wilco a carrot shooter so he wouldn’t go for Ole’s throat.

Later someone stumbled over to my table, dropped a crumpled request slip down, and then dropped the little pencil into Arne’s beer.
"I think we better do this one now," I said. Arne looked at the slip and I cued up the track.
"And now it’s Luz Putterson…with, Four Strong Winds." The woman stumbled back up to the mike and started singing.
"Isn’t that a Neil Young song?" Eldritch said.
"No, it’s actually an Ian and Sylvia song," Ivar over at the bar said. "Neil Young’s just one of many who covered it. I’m partial to Judy Collins’s version myself."
April was trying very hard not to laugh at that point. “God, Liz’s voice is lower than Neil Young’s: weird, eh?” Liz continued singing and gripping the mike stand. She finished, and then threw a paper ball with another request on it.
"All right," Arne said. "Give Luz Putterson a hand! And next, we have" (he paused and squinted a bit) "Luz Putterson again, with Helpless!" Liz started singing and then broke down sobbing once she hit the words “town in north Ontario.” Then the words she was singing didn’t match the ones on the screen, especially in the second verse where she started singing obscenties about a Paul Wright. Arne motioned over to Wilco who waved over Ivar right then.
“Er, Miss,” Ivar said cautiously. “Would you like a Diet Coke or something? I’ve got some meatballs and ligonberry I can put in the microwave for you.” Liz grabbed the mike stand harder and started to pick it up.
“I can’t see the sun! It’s in my eyes!” Liz shrieked. She started to wave the mike stand.
“Don’t make me call the bunny, Miss,” Ivar said. Liz put down the mike and went quietly to her table. Ivar called her a cab and she staggered out.
“Whoa. Good thing I’m staying with Grampa and Iris tonight,” April said. It was getting late, and the people left in the bar wanted the hockey scores. I made plans with Duncan to go into Toronto today.
“We can meet Enid and her boyfriend,” I said.
“I thought they broke up,” Duncan said.
“They did, but he’s got a car and she doesn’t, and she has access to the darkrooms and supplies at York and he doesn’t.” Duncan promised not to talk about his band too much, and then Wilco drove Duncan, April, and me home.

A confederacy of dunces

2007-02-02T18:12:00.000-08:00

Duncan was supposed to meet me over here after school, but he didn't show up. My mother was in early from the office (or late from a shift at the hospital, I'm not sure), and told me that a Michael Patterson called and wanted to thank me personally for the help I gave him on his novel and could I come over to his "temporary domicile" (my mother said those were the precise words) to receive his sincerest gratifications. Whatever. My afternoon was free since Duncan had vanished again, so I walked over to see Michael Patterson.
I thought a lot about Duncan. For once he wasn't all preoccupied at the end of the month. He just seemed kind of distant, like he was in low cloud cover, all January and the change over to February didn't change anything. There weren't going to be any sudden breaks in the weather there. I talked to Jeremy Jones about it a little after Zenobia finished tutoring him this week, but I didn't get to say much since Zapata stormed in to tell him that Eldritch went to see Pan's Labyrinth a fourth time without her.
I got to Michael Patterson's, rang the bell, and Duncan answered.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
"I could ask the same thing, and I'm going to. What are you doing here? You were supposed to meet me over an hour ago." Duncan started shaking his head.
"Man, oh man, I knew I forgot something. I'm so sorry. Come in. I'm helping April watch the juniors in the rec room." I went in and we passed through a hallway filled with smoke-scented photo albums. April was sitting on a collapsing couch with a blonde haired girl,a really large toddler, a stressed rabbit and a freaking cat.
"Play 'Free Bird' again Auntie April," the little girl said.
"No, we've got guests, Merrie," April said. The little girl ran over to the corner, dragging the toddler along.
"That's ok Auntie April, Robin and Merrie play like Auntie Liz!" Both the children suddenly went into fetal huddles, one grabbing the cat and one grabbing the rabbit.
"April, is Merrie having an allergic reaction? Her lips are really swollen," I said. April sighed and said Merrie just looked like that. Duncan wandered back in at that point. "It's great to see you both, but actually I was supposed to see Michael Patterson. He called my house and my mother took a message. Is he around?"
"He should be. Merrie, where is Attic Guy?" April asked. Merrie got out of her huddle and pointed up.
"Attic Guy?" I said.
"It's a long story," April replied. "Duncan, can you find Mike for me? I've got to calm down Butsy and Shiimsa." Duncan and I went around the house, looking for Michael. Mrs. Patterson was in the back checking the water meter. Duncan walked fast to avoid her.
"Duncan, who do those children belong to?"
"They're Mike's," he said.
"He's got kids? How?" Duncan started to explain. "No, not that kind of how. Isn't he, you know, well..."
"They're his. His wife's at work at the pharmacy right now," Duncan said. Then Michael Patterson came bounding in the room.
"Oh, Miss Larson, I wish to thank you for your expert feminine eye! You are one well appreciated component in the success that is my newly-accepted novel, which will be the stellar attraction in the fall list of Reiner and Browne, Publishers." He started shaking my hand crookedly at that point.
"You're welcome," was all I could say.
"When I have my next opus in utero, I shall certainly engage you and your fine feminine eye and voice to overlook my jottings." I thanked him again. Now I really have to go away to Toronto for university, I thought. Michael wandered off into the kitchen and I was left with Duncan.
"You forgot we had a date?" I asked.
"I'm sorry. April's been really stressed and I came over to jam with her and help her with the kids."
"I'm stressed, too, Duncan. I don't know where I'm going in the fall, Zapata's having daily breakdowns at the tutoring table, and Arne wants to use me as vehicle bait. You could have called, at least." He looked fairly sorry. "Do you want to go to karaoke tonight?" I hoped he wouldn't bring April, but I couldn't say that aloud, especially since April looked stuck with a genetic pool that was loonier than Arne.

A winter's tale

2007-01-27T09:37:00.000-08:00

Well, that was another tortuous karaoke session. When I wasn't listening to April and Duncan plan set lists, or work out guitar/bass lines, I was explaining to drunk Swedes why they didn't want to pat the bunny. At least at the end of the evening Wilco gave me a paws-up. Sometimes he seems like better boyfriend material than anyone else I know, except for the major problem of his being a rabbit. I don't really like telenovelas much anyway. I holed up in the women's washroom for a while to text Enid to see if she had any advice on what to do with monomaniac boyfriends (hers likes to obsess over old vinyl and shellac records and antique turntables). Enid's advice boiled down to, "maybe you should move on." I don't know. Maybe things will be different when we go into Toronto this afternoon. There's a really good photography exhibit on at the AGO, at least.

Measure for measure

2007-01-26T14:02:00.000-08:00

I hate January. The exams are both dull and annoying, and whenever there aren't any exams classes are really stupid and boring. Tutoring is really dull since Zenobia and I have had the same questions over and over again from the grade 9s. Duncan practices the same air bass patterns every day when he waits for me to finish up with the Learning Resources Centre. I took a break today to use the washroom, and ran into him walking away sheepishly from the library.
"What happened?"
"Zenobia threw me out. She said I was a distraction, and that I just kept playing the same thing," Duncan said.
"Well, I'll meet you at Tim Hortons once I finish with this. Are you going to karaoke tonight?" He said yes. "Bring April, if you want--she might need to escape from whatever's infested her house. My mother said April's father's brought the trains over to the medical building."
"Man, that's not good," Duncan said.
"The tiny train station and snack bar is right outside my mother's office. She's getting really mad and the train whistles are starting to make her think her autoclave is broken." I had to go back in and explain The Diviners to a grade 10 student right then.
Duncan just seems so distracted lately. I guess I have been too, with exams and the wait until university acceptances in March, and Arne's new search for a large vehicle with a negligent owner that he can make vanish (the vehicle, not the owner).

Titanic days

2007-01-20T17:18:00.000-08:00

We've been busy at the Learning Resources Centre table this week. Exams tend to do that. I gave Duncan some of my old notes, and he thanked me, but looked a bit abstracted, which may have been due to him playing air bass right then.
"Sorry, Zed, just working out the rhythm bridge for a new song we're doing," he said. He said he'd be over to help out with karaoke at the Three Kronen later.
It was busy at the bar. Arne and I were hard pressed to keep up with the requests; I think it was because no-one had any access to the projection television and couldn't watch the hockey game. Wilco was on the bar and was sitting on the remote. He was facing the big television screen and watching Labyrinto de los novios. Whenever anyone tried to take the remote away from him he'd get upset.
"Hey, that rabbit punched me," Ole Svensen said at one point.
"Well, don't make him mad. Go watch the game up front. The Leafs are going to lose anyway," Arne said.
Duncan stuck to critiquing everyone's performance.
"Why'd he pick that song? It's out of his range," he said more than once.
"They're amateurs, Duncan, and they're singing whatever makes them happy. If you wanted decent singing, karaoke at a Swedish bar is not the place to find it." Ivar's girlfriend Brigit was attempting to belt out "Gimme Gimme Gimme a Man After Midnight" right then. She was awful, but that wasn't the point. Duncan was getting on my nerves with his musician stuff. He made up for it by doing a song and dedicating it to me around the end of the night.
This afternoon my mother asked me to run some SPRI over to the Andersons. She said that Duncan's mother had called and said she was running low on it, and wanted to make sure Duncan didn't do anything stupid over Liz Patterson again. I drove over to the Andersons and gave Mrs. Anderson the SPRI. Duncan wasn't in, she said; he was studying math and science with April. Before I could phone over to the Pattersons my cell phone rang. It was Arne claiming he needed a helicopter.

Everything's gone green

2007-01-03T16:16:00.000-08:00

I went out to have coffee with Zenobia and Zapata this afternoon, and we compared notes on boyfriends.
"Duncan's been off having way too much fun in Barbados, while I've had to sit through my parents fighting and my uncle getting cautioned by the government," I said. "But we've got tickets for Evanescence, so I guess if we break up it'll have to be after the concert." Zapata agreed.
"I always break up with Eldritch after major events, especially if he bought the tickets," she said. We went outside while Zenobia and Zapata lit up. Zenobia was using her new cigarette holder. Zapata asked her where she got it.
"Jeremy Jones gave it to me, for tutoring and for believing that he wasn't on drugs when that concert thing happened," Zenobia replied. Zapata got annoyed.
"Jeremy is my shoulder to complain on, you bitch! Get your own!"
I pointed out that Jeremy gave me a Christmas present, too. "You, too? Damn it, leave him alone--he's mine." I felt a little annoyed that she was being so possessive of Jeremy. Zenobia just said, "whatever," and changed the subject.

When I got home, Arne was wandering around the kitchen holding several pieces of the blender.
"How the hell does this thing work?" he asked.
"What the hell are you doing with a broken blender?"
"Wilco's favourite show is on, and he insisted on carrot juice. I had to come over," Arne said. Wilco was on the sofa watching Telelatino.
"Wilco understands Spanish?"
"Of course. All SAS-trained rabbits understand Spanish. Wilco's just a little different in that he's a big fan of telenovelas." The title credits for something that looked like "Labyrinto de los novios" came on.
"And he's watching what?" I asked.
"I'm not sure, except that it's got a hot babe who answers the door in a towel, and firemen. And planes. And cops--lots of cops. They all seem to really like this babe, which is understandable since she's got huge.."
"Lips, it looks like. And answers the door in a towel," I said.
"Exactly--what's not to love?"

Lazy line painter

2007-01-02T08:51:00.000-08:00

I cut off the story again, my brother says. I guess he's learning how to copy edit properly, so I should be happy.
The television was on CP24 constantly during the holidays, since they ran sports scores and highway updates. On Boxing Day, when my mother and grandmother were out shopping and my father was out shopping somewhere else, Charles Wallace was watching the news on CP24 and started trying to get my attention. I was reading the mystery my mother left, Death Takes a Time Share in the Cariboo, and it was really easy to drop it.
"A fire? Are you sure this isn't the Buffalo news?" Charles Wallace nodded.
"It's in Toronto. They must have had cameras around for the whole thing." He was right. It was an apartment building, converted from a 1950s house, and first the downstairs flared up, then the upstairs. Some toddlers in full snow gear (why? wasn't the house on fire? Toronto had been warm for weeks by then, too) got pulled down the wooden fire escape by their parents, then for some reason the father ran back into the fire and came down gasping.
"Is that a really small, flat child?" Charles Wallace asked.
"No, looks like a laptop. Maybe the guy's in CSIS and he had to save the data or lose his job. That's the only reason to run back towards the danger." Then a fireman went up the stairs and picked up another small, quilty, child. "Why are they running this? The fire was two days ago."
"The announcer said it was part of Toronto Fire Services holiday awareness campaign, and that this family was lucky to be alive, considering that they did everything wrong and lived in a firetrap waiting to go off."
"So it's a public service tragedy," I said. My mother and grandmother came back around then. My mother had been to Chapters and was settling down to read Death Makes a Contribution To An RRSP. I had a look on Charles Wallace's Blackberry to see if Duncan had written anything recently. All his messages to me so far had been either incoherent or cut short. I sent Jeremy Jones a postcard since he seemed to be the only one who'd sympathize with me right now (Duncan having made it clear he was doing what he liked best all the time, and was extremely happy and mostly busy or drunk).
Things between my parents were still a bit strained when we drove back to Milborough. I went with my mother, and Arne took my father and Charles Wallace and Wilco. I made plans to go out New Year's Eve with Enid in Toronto, and then my mother made arrangements for my aunt, uncle and Enid to spend New Year's Day with us in Milborough. My father must have done something uncharacteristically over the top and romantic for New Year's Eve, since my mother was in a great mood when I got back from Toronto and Charles Wallace was disgusted. He cheered up when I took him outside to light some fireworks at dark.

New Year's Day

2007-01-01T14:20:00.000-08:00

My mother must be in a good mood. She's blasting her old U2 records on the stereo. I got in earlier this afternoon with my aunt, uncle, and Enid. The family left Ottawa on Saturday, and I went into Toronto yesterday to spend New Year's Eve with Enid. We started out at the Reindeer Restaurant, and then went to the Neutral Zone for the rest of the evening. She's broken up with her boyfriend, although I don't know how long that's going to last.
Christmas was a mess. Once we all got to Ottawa, things started to get bad. My parents had a fight over Duncan. Actually, it was a fight over Duncan's present. My mother asked about what Duncan gave me, and I said he'd had Charles Wallace put stuff he'd written on my iPod (Charles Wallace overdid it, and I had to delete all the stuff he'd duplicated and put my backup files on). My father decided at that point to mention that he'd done something like that once, too.
"Like what? I don't remember you doing anything like that," my mother said.
"Oh, it was earlier. I wrote a song for my girlfriend in first year. I think I still remember it..." He started to hum, but then noticed that my mother looked like she wanted to club him with my iPod. Luckily at that point Arne came in from taking Charles Wallace to the Byward Market for some freelance illusioning or whatever it was he said he was doing.
Things continued on like that all weekend, then it got worse. It started snowing lightly on Christmas Eve. My grandparents had taken Charles Wallace out to Parliament Hill, and Arne was out doing something near the National Mint. My father was trying to find hockey scores on the television, and I was reading parts of the Globe and Mail as my mother finished them. She looked out the window, saw the snow, and had a memory fit of her own.
"The first snow of the year. Sandra, did I ever tell you about the boy I knew who got pneumonia during the first snow one year in Whitby?" This didn't sound good, but the pneumonia could have been a lead-in for a cautionary medical story, so I fell for it.
"No, you never told me that. What happened? Inadequate clothing for the season?"
"No. He was leaving for Saskatoon the next day, and wanted to see me. My father kept him out waiting on the front porch, but he didn't leave. We walked through the park for what seemed to be hours, then he went home. Then I heard he had pneumonia as soon as he arrived in Saskatchewan. No one's ever sat through a blizzard for me since." She looked wistful at that point, and I glanced over at my father. He was watching the sports channel with a slightly apologetic look. The rest of the family came back around that point. Charles Wallace changed the television channel and started reading the weather report for the country aloud.
"There's snow falling in Winnipeg. Snow has covered the Trans-Canada Highway at the Ontario border. There's snow in Halifax. There's a light snow cover in..." At that point Arne told him to shut up.
After dinner that night Charles Wallace sat on my bed and asked why I had to make our parents fight.
"It wasn't my idea, you know. Duncan's Christmas present just set the two of them off about whatever it was years ago that the other didn't do. Mom's loved Dad all this time for being sensible and then she gets upset when she finds out he did something stupid and romantic once and it wasn't for her." Charles Wallace then settled down with a book and I started to read Heart of Darkness (since we're doing it next term in English).
The snow didn't last the next day. We opened presents, had dinner, and my parents managed to speak to each other. Arne went off somewhere after dinner and wouldn't take Charles Wallace with him, which made Charles Wallace even more eager to find out where he went. He pestered me until I gave in and said I'd borrow a car to follow Arne. My mother seemed relieved, or preoccupied, or something--she gave me the keys to the Honda.
We found Arne parked next to the Mint on the banks of the Ottawa River. He had a metal detector and pieces of a diving suit.
"What the hell are you doing?" I asked.
"What does it look like? I'm trying to pull gold out of the river. There's loads of shavings down here from the Mint." He sounded sort of plausible. Too plausible, in fact--some security guards were coming down the hill. "Quick, into the car!"
"I'm taking Mom's car," I yelled as Charles Wallace beat me to the car.
"Try to head them off! I'll go to Hull!" Arne yelled. He really needed to take lessons on making a quick getaway. The National Capital Commission security guards were following him over to Quebec as I drove back to my grandparents.
"You know, Sandra, hanging around Arne when he's about to get arrested is more fun than watching Mom and Dad right now." I agreed.

Welcome to Ottawa. Sorry for the inconvenience

2006-12-22T09:47:00.000-08:00

The one time I went to the airport in Ottawa, the signs all said that. It pretty much sums it up.
My mother has to stay in Milborough until Sunday because of some hospital thing, so my father was set to drive me, Charles Wallace, and gifts up to Ottawa today. We started loading the Saab up around 9:00. By 9:04 it was clear not everything would fit: we had a choice of leaving suitcases or Charles Wallace behind. My father didn't look very happy, and he went inside shaking his head and saying, "Please forgive me," to no one in particular. About ten minutes later I realized why he was doing that. Arne pulled up at the curb.
"Don, thanks for calling. We can get everything into the trunk of the T-bird--hell, you could bring a patio set, too if you want to." We got everything into the trunk, said goodbye to my mother, and got on the road. Charles Wallace is letting me use his Blackberry right now, and he's listening to my iPod. Wilco is sulking in his rabbit carrier between us. He has a tiny deck of cards and keeps pointing to the word "euchre" but neither Charles Wallace nor I know euchre. I'm wearing Jeremy Jones's present. Arne noticed it straight off.
"Hey, cool necklace. And good welding technique. Where did you get it?"
"Jeremy Jones gave it to me."
"I keep telling you, he likes you. Just date him already. Duncan only gave you music--you got real jewelry from Jeremy. Trust me-- go with the tangible assets." He's concentrating on the 401 right now, and Dad is fiddling with the radio.

Eternity in an hour

2006-12-18T09:01:00.000-08:00

I saw Duncan between classes this morning. He said his mouth tastes like he drank paint thinner. At least he's not talking to the doughnuts any more.
Last night I met him at Tim Hortons after he jammed with April. I knew something was odd when he stood outside the door and kept waving his hand, and staring at it. I decided to get him his double double and maple dip while he was doing whatever it was with his hands. After a few minutes he came in, and looked at the doughnut like he'd never seen one before in his life.
"Zandra, have you ever realized how you can see heaven in a doughnut glaze?" He waved the doughnut a bit. "O sweet things I love, save me from the cowcatchers."
His eyes were little pinpoints, and he was really reading that maple dip.
"Duncan, what did you do at April's?" I asked. Duncan thought for a bit.
"I'm not sure. I think it was fusion, but April still can't get the chord changes right for jazz."
"No, did you eat or drink anything there?" Mrs. Patterson's seafood surprise always had a bad effect on Duncan, but he didn't look like he had food poisoning.
"Hmmm. Hmmmm. Pop. Cookies. Fresh breath strips with pictures. More cookies." Now he was staring into the double double. "You know, if the doors of perception were cleansed, we could see double doubles as they are: infinite."
The direct route was the only thing left. "Duncan, are you all right?"
"Welll...there's something in my head and it's not me," Duncan said after a while. Then he apologized to his double double and drank it. I suggested that I drive him home and he agreed. In the car he kept saying he could feel the streetlights. I dropped him off and then called Jeremy Jones.
"Did you break up with him again?" Jeremy asked.
"No, and I'm fine, too, thank you."
"Sorry. It's been a long day and I had to put up with Zapata staring at me evilly all afternoon at this choir thing I did sound for."
I asked Jeremy if there really was something going on between April and Duncan, and what possibly could have gone on this afternoon. Jeremy said not to worry, and that if they had had any substances liable to abuse at the Patterson house April's sister was probably responsible. I thanked Jeremy and told him he made me feel better.
Then Duncan called. All he said was "Dealin' Dalton. Ask Chuck."

Academy fight song

2006-12-12T11:10:00.000-08:00

Last night my mother gave my father a toolbox.
"I think this is yours, Don, although I have this odd feeling I should have picked it up earlier," my mother said. My father opened the blue and yellow toolbox and pulled out a meatball baller, a ligonberry press and a full set of Allen keys.
"It says it's for Dr. Larson, though," my father said.
"I think it's from that crazy dentist down the hall. Everyone on the floor got toolkits," my mother said.
"And I suppose he doesn't know you're English," my father said. My mother nodded. I guess my mother would have received a toolkit with a tea strainer in it or something if the dentist knew.
Things have been busy at the tutoring table this week, with exams and essays coming up. Zapata took the principal's bribe and joined a carolling group. Better her than me. Jeremy Jones came by the library when I had a break from the grade 9 students.
"Thanks for not breaking up with Duncan again this weekend," he said. "I had enough to do with Zapata breaking up with Eldritch again this weekend."
"Well, you're a very good listener, Jeremy, and very honest. A lot of girls like that." Then we both stared at each other for a bit, then he grabbed his backpack and left suddenly. After two more grade 9s I left too, since I had to retrieve Charles Wallace from his new school. The principal at Glenallen told my parents to switch Charles Wallace out while his teacher was tied up with court appearances. My brother was transferred to King Edward VIII public school and was adjusting to having a regular class schedule again.
When I got to King Edward VIII I was in time to pull my brother out of a trashcan in front of the gym doors.
"Thanks, Sandra. Tomorrow could you come a little earlier, before they shove me in the garbage?"
"I had to tutor--the principal's making me fill out timecards." Charles Wallace dusted himself off and we started to walk home. We had bought the Christmas tree last night and Duncan was coming over to help put it up and avoid watching the Leafs lose. Christmas decoration detritus was all over the living room when we got in. A half hour after we got home, Duncan arrived and I ordered pizza.
"Is anyone else helping with this?" Charles Wallace asked about the tree.
"Besides Duncan? Just Dad. Mom's at the hospital," I said. I spoke a little too soon. Someone started banging on the door loudly. "Oh shit, it's probably Arne." Duncan picked up some garland and held it defensively as I opened the door. Arne stumbled in, wearing a half-destroyed Santa suit.
"They're animals! Animals!" He went to the fridge for a beer, and then explained that he'd just escaped a toy riot at IKEA. Apparently nobody told Arne that Santa could only promise children products from IKEA, and he got attacked by a group of irate preschoolers who didn't want shelving for Christmas. "When I got out, they were throwing ligonberry at the elves. It wasn't pretty."

Time's tide, etc.

2006-12-04T12:30:00.000-08:00

Another ghastly weekend, and now a horrid week.
Actually, the weekend wasn't all bad. I went to Toronto with my mother on Saturday; she went shopping and I did research for my English and history essays at Metro Ref. Of course, my mother drove me to Toronto since she was kind of sorry about Friday night. The Hendersons had their Christmas party, and I had to go with my parents. (Charles Wallace was off at the Three Kronen helping Arne with the karaoke, filling in for me.) My parents get a sadistic kick out of having me wear things my grandmother sends me: my grandmother is responsible for the pink Hello Kitty sweatsuit I have, for example. For the Christmas party my parents "suggested" that I wear the holiday dress my grandmother got me at Thanksgiving. When I actually had it on, they appeared to reconsider: when I went to get my coat my father said, "Emily, she looks like a depressive tree."
"I know, Don. She'll change." But we didn't have time. I arrived at the Hendersons with my parents and tried to keep my coat on as long as possible. Unfortunately Zapata's father took it for me and I didn't have anywhere to hide. Jeremy Jones was there DJing. Duncan was supposed to have gone with us but he forgot, or something, so the only people roughly my age there were Zapata (whose boyfriend "forgot" to show up too) and Jeremy, and since Jeremy was working I couldn't talk to him much. Zapata and I stuck to the kitchen, since most of her parents' friends were more into drinking and complaining about work and wouldn't notice if we drank the cheaper sparkling wines there. Zapata asked about my dress.
"I don't want to talk about it," I said. "I'm in the mood for a Patrick Swayze Christmas right now."
"That bad?"
"Yes. Duncan's forgotten about this party, and he's probably off with April somewhere. I so want to be finished with high school and be in university so I can be miserable around people I don't know."
My parents and I left the party around midnight, and it looked like some of the other guests were just warming up. My parents looked a bit guilty about my dress, and my mother suprised me when we got to the house by saying she'd take me to Toronto the next day so I could get some decent research done for my essays.

Dragging the harbour

2006-11-30T13:48:00.000-08:00

It's rained all week, so much so you'd hardly know you were in Ontario in November. I've spent most of the past week in the library after school, and all the radiator there seems to do is spread the smell of wet wool uniforms. I'm seriously reconsidering my dislike of cotton.
Zenobia's been sick since Tuesday, so I've been doing most of the tutoring myself this week. Jeremy Jones came over with the pile of things his regular teachers are having him do to make up for his in-school suspension. For some reason, Zapata was tailing him.
Jeremy pulled some poetry out of the pile. "I missed this unit-- are we even supposed to be doing this in Grade 10?" He handed me a sheet.
"Keats, the Grecian urn...it's more like Grade 11 stuff, actually, with the frozen spots of time thing and all that." Jeremy looked more interested.
"Frozen time?"
"Yes, like the paintings on the urn. They're all frozen moments in time, never changing, which Keats both loves and kind of fears. These figures never age, but they never get to finish what the painter started. But then, they're only representations, and not real anyway." Jeremy took notes. "I don't think that's really what your teacher wants--she's not very bright and she hates poetry anyway."
"No, it's personal, sort of. So these pictures stop time, but not really? Like, if your public face stopped growing, you wouldn't actually stop?" This was getting a bit strange. Zapata's boyfriend turned up in the library at this time.
"Jeremy, you can't turn back time, even if you're Cher."
"So April's safe?"
"April? Safe from what?" I asked. Jeremy started to explain. "But doesn't that just mean that her crazy mother who puts that stuff on the internet just won't admit that April's getting older and less cute? Only her internet image won't change--she could move out and marry Arne, or do something equally insane, and that crap on that webpage wouldn't change. Hell, she could become prime minister and she's still be in that stupid pink hoodie for everyone to see."
"I've got to tell April," he said, and started to leave. Zapata came over and started talking about what sounded at first like plumbing supplies, but then sounded like she wanted to remind me that I hadn't seen Duncan much since Saturday since he had been studying math and panicking about the end of the month.

The widening gyre

2006-11-25T09:11:00.000-08:00

I really, really hate Arne right now. He almost made me fail my G2 test. I was using the brakes harder than I should have, the examiner said.
I should have noticed something was wrong when Duncan and April and I got to the Three Kronen and the karaoke equipment was just sitting in a pile near the cigarette machine. I asked Ivar where Arne was and he said he didn't know, but to check upstairs first. I left Duncan and April to set up the karaoke and went up to Arne's apartment.
Wilco must have had a week off, since the place was a mess, and Arne was passed out on the floor with a copy of Canadian Magic Week and two empty bottles of Absolut raspberry vodka. "Damn," I said, and Arne blinked a bit then passed out even further. I ran downstairs to find Ivar, and ran into a microphone. Duncan had set up the system, and wanted me to sing something.
"I don't sing," I said.
"C'mon, hardly anyone's here, and I picked an easy one for you--'These Boots are Made for Walking.'" April was out in the bar setting the song catalogues, request notes, and pencils out.
"All right, just this once," I said, and Duncan typed in the song. Then his jaw dropped and he started muttering. Then I saw why-- "Muskrat Love? What the hell?" Then the music started, and the little words rolled across the screen, although the first line of the song wasn't "Duncan, I'm going to kill you." I tried to sing, but I can't, so I ended up doing what Zapata and Zenobia was always the best thing to do in situations like this: go hardcore. Finally the song ended, and I went over to the bar to hide. Ivar was there, though.
"Please don't sing anymore," he said. "That was the most violent cover of a Captain and Tennille song I've ever heard." I promised him I wouldn't sing anymore, and went back to the machine. Duncan was hosting and running the machine, so I took over the programming. I think I was starting to realize the test was the next day, and I began to get worried. I had to take it in my father's car, for one thing, since my mother and the Honda would be at the hospital. I hardly ever drove the Saab, and my father tended to panic every time I hit the brakes when he took me driving. Then I wondered why Duncan always invited April to things like this with me. Maybe he really wanted to be with her, rather than me, or even Eva. I started to think about that, and the next thing I knew I was setting up "Afternoon Delight" for them to do as a duet. Once I got that in the machine, I started to worry about the G2 test again. Why did Arne have to flake out over Canadian Magic Week this Friday? Why did I have to run a karaoke night full of drunks doing Swedish hockey songs? I think I must have said something aloud about all this, since Duncan looked at me in a panic. I ran out of the bar then. He followed me, but he went up to Arne's apartment. I was walking home, or in the direction of home.
I went by Jeremy Jones' house, and the light was on in the living room and I could see him sitting in an uncomfortable chair. I rang the bell and he answered. Jeremy's a good listener, and I asked him what he would do in the whole karaoke/bad song situation. He seemed pretty surprised that any karaoke music collection would have "Muskrat Love" in it. Then I checked on my cellphone to see if Duncan had posted anything about this on a blog. He had, and he even got the names wrong. I asked Jeremy if I could borrow his cellphone to text Duncan so he wouldn't know it was from my phone. There were simply too many bad animal references going around, and I told him so and that it was over. Then Jeremy got sort of confused since Zapata told him something about a test to be a male goth or something. He looked fine to me, but I think Zapata was stringing him along or something, especially since she's having some boyfriend problems at the moment. I said goodbye to Jeremy and went home.
I couldn't sleep very well thinking about the test and realizing that I had just broken up with Duncan over something idiotic again. "Stupid, stupid," I muttered. I had to do something about it in the morning after my test.
At least I passed the test. Afterwords, I dropped my father off at home and told him I had to look for someone. He had his fake baseball league fake World Series to prepare for tonight anyway, so he was all right with that. I pulled out of the driveway before Charles Wallace could get near the car.
Duncan wasn't home, and I guessed Arne had something to do with it. It was getting to afternoon, so I guessed Arne would be at his favourite place for brunch. I got a good parking spot at the IKEA and found him in the cafeteria with Duncan. I apologized to Duncan a lot and told him how the driving test had been worrying me.
"I passed, though, and I've got the car outside, and we can go out for food if you like," I told him. He looked happy to leave his ligonberry waffles with Arne. We went to Tim Hortons and had lunch and I apologized more.

Masques of morality

2006-11-09T17:16:00.000-08:00

School grinds on. In English class this week we spent too much time on paragraph structure and the types of conflict in narrative. I annoyed the teacher by doing my conflict chart in half the time she gave us to do it. It's rained all week, so everyone's stayed close to the school during free periods. It was a relief, for once, to sit in the library at the Learning Resources ~~Table~~ Centre for two hours after school.
The rain had stopped by the time I was leaving. I ran into Jeremy Jones near the guidance office. He had been in his in-school suspension.
"How are you doing," I asked him. "The principal's being really stupid blaming you for everything that happened."
"Yeah, it's pretty bad. The only one who doesn't think so is my dad."
"Is that good? Wait, you never see your dad..."
"Yeah, that's about it. He's really proud of me blowing my first gig due to drugs. He sent over a topless dancer to the house yesterday." He pulled a flyer out of his notebook and gave it to me.
"Looks familiar," I said. "Wait, it's Zenia." Jeremy nodded. "Well, that explains a lot. Now I know who the Picton Peeler is."
"What?" I explained that Picton was one of the residences at Mackenzie Bowell, and there were reports for the last month of a first year student who stripped for a party some third year students threw. A few of them took pictures and put them online, and the next thing anyone knew, the guys who took the pictures had strange accidents happen to them.
"Only Zenia could combine stripping and devouring men's entire beings," I said. Jeremy was lucky his mother threw Zenia out. "She didn't actually get into the house, did she?"

Fearful symmetry

2006-11-07T11:48:00.000-08:00

I have a job, sort of, and it's Arne's fault. I suppose it could be worse. Last Friday night I helped him do the Three Kronen's first karaoke night ever. Karaoke, for some reason, is fairly novel in Milborough, so the place was packed. I haven't heard so many off-key versions of "King of the Road" in my life. Arne ran the karaoke machine itself, while I passed out request slips, tiny pencils, and the song catalogues. Arne was suprised to see one of his old co-workers from the Valhalla.
"Huskuld!" Arne said.
"Don't call me that."
"Sorry, Howard. How are things?"
"Not great. My trial starts tomorrow, for one thing," Howard said.
"Want to learn how to disappear?" Arne asked him. Howard ignored him and went to pick up a catalogue and a few request slips. Howard was the best singer there all night, and he made 75% of the bar cry when he did "The Green Green Grass of Home." It took Ivar's threats at closing time to get people to stop giving Howard requests to sing.
Afterwords Ivar asked me if I could do this every week. He said he needed someone to keep Arne from doing magic when he was supposed to be hosting karaoke. I agreed: Arne nearly set the amps on fire when he started the hoop trick when he was singing "I Fought the Law." I'm getting hospitality worker underage minimum wage, but it could be worse.
Charles Wallace is getting transferred into a different public school. My parents saw the quizzes he sat through last week, and were really confused about the grades. Charles Wallace explained that the quizzes were supposed to take about six hours each, since his teacher was busy with something at her desk.
"For a week?" my father asked. He was staring at the math quiz, which Charles Wallace got a 40% on, starting with having 1+1=2 marked wrong.
"What exactly have you been doing all term?" my mother asked.
"Instructional films, film board films, filmstrips, DVDs, and the quizzes. That about covers it," Charles Wallace said. My parents then started re-arranging their schedules for the next day so they could both go see the principal. "You might have to take a number," Charles Wallace added.

Shoot out the lights

2006-11-03T14:19:00.000-08:00

It's been an awful week. In English class we spent four days trying to figure out if Hamlet was a good person or bad person. I hate my stupid teacher and the way she always makes us look for stupid moral lessons in everything we read. The principal is an idiot, too. First he forces everyone to either participate in or watch the "Gym Jam" for Halloween, then he goes ballistic when one act has technical difficulties. Thanks to stupid rumours, and I'm not sure what else, Jeremy and Becky McGuire now have daily locker searches, and the rest of the school gets random ones. I'd search whoever gave Duncan and the rest of his band the idea to wear whatever it was they wore for the "Gym Jam" (and I'd get whoever came up with the name "Gym Jam," too--it sounds like nightwear for toddlers).
We haven't got much else to do in Milborough, so the gym was full. I talked to Jeremy, when he wasn't busy trying to set up. We both watched Duncan and the band do their one song.
"What are they wearing? They look like the house band on the cruise line of the glammed," I said. Eva managed to have about half the boys in the crowd staring at her chest. Duncan looked silly, and didn't have a mike although he and April both sang backup. Jeremy just shook his head a lot when I asked him questions, until we both just stared at the beer bong waving out of the coffin the band had behind them.
The band was supposed to strike their gear so Becky could set up, but Eva pulled them all backstage. Jeremy was trying to strike their gear, set up Becky's, and set up the sound board by himself. I left him alone and went to the exit doors. It was hopeless trying to talk to Duncan, since Eva had him under constant lead singer surveillance. I went to the washroom and missed the rest. Zapata told me the next day that Becky's band flaked out and the sound was shot, or something.
"Whoever was proctoring the whole thing thought there were drugs behind it, or something. One of the guys in the band that went on before said something about someone being stoned, and it just went from there." Hence the occasional locker searches. I hate this stupid school.
I'm sort of in trouble myself, after our trip to Toronto over the weekend. My parents looked fairly annoyed with me the day after, and they said I kept on talking about rabbits. I have to admit they're getting pretty inventive with punishments. I have to assist Arne at the Three Kronen's first karaoke night tonight. He's threatening to do magic, too.

Tiny dynamite

2006-10-25T12:27:00.000-07:00

Duncan seems to be recovering well from his tryptophan problems. His parents took him to Toronto over the weekend so he could have Bajan non-poultry food with his relatives, as well as a trip (courtesy of Perdita and some contacts she has with the Barbadan consulate) to see the Leafs lose at the Air Canada Centre. I haven't been doing much with him besides help him out with his homework. He's been catching up on what he missed when he was under Eva-thrall.
Arne's been over a lot to watch World Series games with my father. My father has one set of theories about baseball, most of which involve decades worth of statistics. Arne's are much simpler.
"They really should let magicians pitch. I could hide tobacco juice on my hands a hell of a lot better than Kenny Rogers can." My father pointed out that there was no proof, even with the replays, that Rogers or any other pitcher was using illegal substances on the ball. "Ha," was all Arne said. They were watching that game in the living room, since my mother was working late. Arne was getting tanked but there was no sign of Wilco.
"Where's Wilco?" I asked when I went downstairs to get an apple.
"Oh, he's back at the apartment catching up on episodes of Hockey: A People's History," Arne said. "Every rabbit's got to have a hobby." He had taken a cab to the house. I went back upstairs and finished up my English homework.

Speed and sleep

2006-10-15T17:32:00.000-07:00

I called Duncan early this morning, and asked if he wanted to go into Toronto this afternoon. He sounded groggy, but said yes. I told him to meet me at the GO station in an hour. Charles Wallace was put out that I wasn't taking him, but got over it when I told him his job was to watch Eva. I then called Enid and asked if she and her boyfriend could meet us at Union Station. I explained to her what was going on and she said she was happy to help, even though I sounded crazy.
Duncan needed three double-doubles in order to get on the train. I bought maple dips, too, in case he needed anything else to wake up. He said he felt like he hadn't had any sleep, and that he really couldn't remember anything of the night before except that he and Eva did something somewhere. I had the camcorder with me and showed him the recording Charles Wallace made. Duncan was stunned.
"I did her homework? I did my homework? She watched the hockey game? I missed Mats Sundin scoring in overtime? Oh man, this is bad." By this time we'd pulled into Union Station. Enid and her boyfriend were waiting for us on the concourse. We bought Duncan more coffee and went to find the squeegee squat.
Unfortunately it had been torn down and was now a gaping hole waiting for a condo. Duncan looked confused. I told him that I was just trying to remind him, and his subconscious, of who he was and what he liked. Duncan then said he liked food, and could we get lunch? Enid's boyfriend wanted nachos, so we went to Sneaky Dee's downtown. We got the King's Crown nachos and three combination plates and Duncan explained to Enid and her boyfriend what he thought was going on. At least he was sounding more like himself, and he looked really happy when the tv over the bar showed highlights from the Leafs game. After we ate we walked down College towards Kensingston Market. Enid's boyfriend stopped in front of a set of stairs, and said, "It's the Reindeer Restaurant! I haven't been here for years! Cheap beer!" We followed him down and sat at a corner table. The waitress came over to take our order. She looked familiar, and I realized why when Duncan looked up at her and said,
"Bambi?"

Pusher

2006-10-15T09:01:00.000-07:00

Charles Wallace is really starting to enjoy stalking Eva too much. He decided to go follow Duncan and Eva after they left the Tim Hortons last night. He took his camcorder and said he'd be back when he got something good, and would I keep either or both of our parents diverted. I told him to phone immediately if Duncan got to first base.
I went home and looked through old X-Files episodes on DVD, hoping to find a few on mind control. I set up a pile to watch, and was on the couch in the living room with them when my mother came home from the hospital. She was surprised to see me in on a Saturday night, but was happy to watch the X-Files with me. She said it was just like when I was little. I think I fell asleep, since when I woke up to Charles Wallace waving his camcorder in front of me I had an afghan on and was still on the couch.
"So, what did you get?" I asked Charles Wallace.
"Lots. They went back to her house, and you can see what they got up to." He connected the camcorder to the television and we watched a wobbly, but fairly clear, view of what Eva did to Duncan.
"Homework?" I asked.
"Look carefully," my brother said. Duncan was doing both his and Eva's homework, while Eva watched a hockey game.
"She watched a hockey game?"
"Not just any hockey game, Sandra. The Leafs were playing Calgary, and they won in overtime on a Mats Sundin goal."
"There's no way a normal Duncan would have wanted to miss that," I said. My brother nodded. He fast-forwarded through the dull spots until we got to the only evidence of contact between Duncan and Eva: a handshake before he left. "This is bad. We're going to have to do something fast. Monday after school we're all going to see Arne, but I have to do something tomorrow." Charles Wallace pouted when I told him he couldn't come along.

The thing with feathers

2006-10-14T14:36:00.000-07:00

Jeremy called me after he met with Arne, and warned me that I might not really like Arne's ideas on how to deal with Eva, and that Arne owed him $40.00. Arne came over later to watch the NLCS with my father, but I got to him before the game started.
"Breast hypnosis? That's the best you can come up with?" I asked him.
"Well, what's wrong with that? Anyway, you know that Jones guy likes you--why don't you just cut your losses and date him? You act old, he looks old--it's a perfect match."
"That's not the point. Duncan is under some kind of deep hypnosis that's making him think he's doing things he's not. There's got to be more to this than mammary tissue." Arne sat for a bit.
"Let me think. Talking to Jerome gave me some ideas. Do you still have that dress you wore in that play?" I didn't like the direction this was going in.
"You're going to talk to Jeremy again, and this time I'm going. With Charles Wallace. And his camera."
Arne looked defeated. "The act would have been great--trust me! I'd cut you in on the door, too. All you'd have to do is..." My father came into the room at this point and Arne shut up.

Bicameral mind

2006-10-13T12:16:00.000-07:00

I didn't have to wait long to have a talk with Arne. He took me out driving yesterday, since my father reminded him that I was taking the G1 road test at the end of the month. I walked over to Arne's current temporary workplace, the Milborough Durbar in Miniscule Mumbai (Milborough's half-block sized Indian neighbourhood).
Arne was cleaning up the plates after the lunch buffet rush.
"Arne, I've got a problem," I started.
"I know. Just go really blonde and wear lower cut tops," he said.
"Damn it, not that kind of problem. Duncan is under some kind of mind control and I can't figure out what's wrong." Arne didn't look very impressed.
"Don't any of your weird friends do Wicca or something? Can't they just put a reverse spell on him?"
"Zapata's already tried that, and it didn't work. Charles Wallace and I think that it may be a type of hypnosis, and, well, Arne, you're our only hope." Arne started gloating. "Stop audibly gloating."
"I'll think of something while I'm running the dishwasher. Have a seat and don't touch the butter chicken, it's been under the lights too long." Arne then went into the kitchen. After about twenty minutes he returned, and said he'd tell me his plan once we drove around town a few times.
After our third trip to the Beer Store to return his empties, Arne said that he needed some background on the whole thing.
"Who's the previous boyfriend?"
"Jeremy Jones. He claims that Eva was invisible for a while this spring, too." Arne's eyebrows went up.
"Invisible? That's strange. I really need to talk to her--I could use her in my act, once I find a venue."
"That's not helping. You're supposed to be stopping her from mindcontrolling Duncan, not giving her a job." Ultimately we settled on him meeting with Jeremy and then later doing first-hand observation of Duncan's interactions with Eva.

The resisting reader

2006-10-11T10:15:00.000-07:00

Had I but known then what I know now, I would have come up with some feeble excuse not to go to see my grandparents this weekend. Mrs. Anderson had asked me over for Thanksgiving dinner on Monday, and I went over to the house after we got back from Ottawa. The first thing I noticed was that Duncan was in track pants and moving very slowly. He seemed a little puffy, too.
"Are you all right? If you're sick..." I started to say, but he cut me off.
"No, not sick. Not yet."
"So, what did you do this weekend?" I asked. "Did you see April?"
"Eva and I had a pleasant weekend, thank you very much." That was bad. Then he continued. "I had Thanksgiving dinner with Eva on Friday, and then I went over and had Thanksgiving dinner on Saturday, and then on Sunday we had Thanksgiving dinner together, and we had Thanksgiving dinner this afternoon."
"Well, you actually didn't have Thanksgiving dinner with her on Friday, at least. You were over at my house, and here's a photograph to prove it." The date and timestamp were pretty obvious. "However, that still means that you've had three turkey dinners so far and you're about to have your second in one day. At least my grandparents had the turkey yesterday." Duncan started moaning.
"Don't say turkey. Oh man oh man, I don't know what's happened to me."
"Well, it looks like you're gained weight, and a well-founded fear of turkey," I said.
During dinner, Duncan kept trying to give bits of food to the cats, but only Falstaff seemed interested. Faustus just slept, and seemed to be bigger than the last time I saw him. Duncan had a hard time staying awake after all that turkey. I managed after dinner to haul him over to the bathroom scale, and found out how much he'd gained over the weekend.
"That's it. You're going to the Y with me until you get rid of that," I said. Duncan looked surprised. "Yes, the Y, and if you tell anyone that I actually go there and work out I'll let Eva feed you forever." It was kind of mean, but I really didn't want to run into anyone from school while I was lifting weights. Anyway, at that point Duncan was more afraid of food than anything else.
When I got home Charles Wallace was sitting at the desk in my room.
"Well, how was he?" he asked.
"Not good. Eva managed to trap him into multiple holiday dinners. He's gained about 7 kg and cringes when you mention poultry."
"I know you're not going to like this, Sandra, but you know who can give you some real answers about hypnosis and mind control." He was right.
"Damn it. All right, I'll call Arne."

Absence

2006-10-07T13:35:00.000-07:00

In about twenty minutes or so we're leaving to go to my grandparents' in Ottawa for Thanksgiving. Arne's coming too, but at least he's driving by himself. Last night Duncan was over to watch the hockey game, and I convinced Charles Wallace that I could operate the camera on my own and that he could go see a movie with Arne instead. I hope Duncan will be all right this weekend. Ordinarily (wait, what's ordinary about this problem), I'd just make sure he spent all his time with April, but April's got family problems that are keeping her depressed and worried when she's not at the hospital. So I just have to hope Eva doesn't do too much to him, whatever it is she does.

Spellbound

2006-10-06T10:26:00.000-07:00

Duncan's having some relapses into thinking he's dating Cowboy Eva, but on the whole he's more or less back to normal. We watched the hockey game last night and he was really happy the Leafs won. We didn't do very much else, as Charles Wallace insisted on videoing Duncan watching the game. I wish he had a better sense of where science and my personal life separate.
"Mom, how does hypnosis work?" he asked as we got ready to go to school this morning.
"Honey, we don't know," my mother said. "We still don't know much about the human brain and how it works in a normal state and no, you can't experiment on human brains when you grow up."
Charles Wallace turned up in the library during my spare period.
"What the hell are you doing here? Don't you have a school of your own to be miserable in?" I asked him.
"My teacher won't notice," he said. "And your math class was more interesting anyway. Do you think Eva has special powers? Maybe she's really a Class 5 mutant..."
"Charles Wallace, X-Men III is not a documentary, unlike Hitchcock's The Birds."
"You only say that since you're afraid of birds. Maybe Eva's got some hypnosis thing going on. Or maybe there's a hidden white noise transmitter somewhere that's scrambling your cortex." He looked at his watch then. "I better get back to Glenallen. We're watching filmstrips today, and I want to see if my teacher's figured out how to get the sound and strip synchronized yet." He left as Zenobia walked in and sat at the computer.
"There goes the creepy kid from The Ring," she said. I told her that that was my brother. "Isn't he supposed to be in school?"
"Yes, but he's helping me with this Eva thing."
"Was it his idea for you to go to a concert with Jeremy Jones?"
"No, Jeremy had tickets and we didn't go together, we just went together." It made sense to me. Zenobia then bypassed the library computer's nanny program and read movie news.
"The Ring 3 is in production," she announced.
"What the hell are they going to have possessed this time? A haunted DVD? An evil video case? Can't that brat just get over it and go into oblivion?" Right then the librarian was getting near us, so Zenobia went back to the catalogue page and I pulled out my English homework.

Blessed rage for order

2006-10-03T14:44:00.000-07:00

I had a nice time out with Jeremy in Toronto last night, although he looked a little bored at times when I talked about Duncan. He's a really good listener otherwise. During lunch I talked to Duncan in the library.
"So, what did you do last night?" I asked. He was sitting with a copy of the newspaper in front of him, and for some reason he was staring at the Sudoku page.
"Eva and I went out to Tim Horton's and had a pleasant evening, thank you," he said mechanically. I reached into my bag. Finally, having a budding evil mastermind for a younger brother was paying off.
"No you didn't--you stayed at your home and played Scrabble with your mother and my brother, and here's the proof." I showed him the photographs. Charles Wallace had used my mother's camera, and had Arne take them to a 24-hour 1 hour developing store somewhere. Duncan grew increasingly alarmed as he looked through the photographs.
"I won a game against my mother? I helped Charles Wallace do the walking cards illusion? What the..."
"Yes, you actually stayed in all night, but for some reason have a masking memory of going out with Eva. I think she's got more than just botox behind that smirk." We fell silent at that point.

Living in oblivion

2006-10-02T14:59:00.000-07:00

"You never see extreme cataclysm coming," Charles Wallace always says, and he's usually right (although "extreme cataclysm" is redundant, and he gets annoyed when I remind him of that). I called Duncan last night to see what he was up to this week, but his mother said he was out with Eva. She sounded a bit surprised about that, but I thought it was normal enough, as they are in the same band. I assumed that April, Gerald, Luis and Jeremy would be around, too.
I finally ran into him at lunch. I wanted to tell him that Gerald had been thrown out of my English class again today (my English teacher is showing us the Canadian film version of Beowulf, and for some reason Gerald keeps trying to get in to watch it). Duncan was sitting alone, staring blankly at his gelatin dessert.
"Duncan, are you all right?" I asked. He nodded. "How was rehearsal last night?"
"Eva is fine, thank you. We've been together for a few weeks now," Duncan said mechanically.
"Er, you've been with me for the past few weeks--you haven't had any time to date Eva." Duncan nodded his head rapidly.
"It's really strange. I was so worried about April and her grandfather that I didn't feel weird and paranoid like usual. Then I woke up yesterday and Eva called and reminded me we'd been dating for a while and nothing had changed. Nothing's still changed--now she's trying to flirt with Gerald and Luis at the same time, and April's too depressed to notice." Jeremy had come over to the table by this time. "Man, I didn't steal your girlfriend. I keep telling you that." Jeremy didn't look very happy.
"So, did Eva tell you yesterday that she'd been dating Duncan for weeks?"
"Yeah, it was kind of sudden," Jeremy admitted.
"Did she smirk on the phone?"
"That's not nice," Jeremy said, without much conviction. "I've been with her all this time--when'd she have time to date Duncan? In her sleep?" Right at that point Eva herself was coming into sight, so I took my lunch over to an empty table and reread my French homework.

Literature relief

2006-09-25T13:34:00.000-07:00

The entire family went into Toronto for the Word on the Street yesterday. We took Duncan, too, since it would look good for his English class. Even though it rained on and off all afternoon, there was enough cover between the booths and the trees in Queen's Park to keep us from getting completely soaked. We all split up once we got to the main exhibits. Charles Wallace went with my mother and looked at science magazines, and then waited in line with her when she went to McClelland and Stewart's booth to get her new Margaret Atwood book signed by the remote control pen. (Margaret Atwood was in Scotland, but the book signing was in Toronto. Go figure.) My father got a lot of baseball-related statistics books at ECW Press, and Duncan and I just wandered around. Duncan swore that he saw Michael Patterson dropping bad novel-sized packages into every publisher booth; considering that some of the publishers there were (for instance) architecture book-only publishers, or children's lit only, he might not have much luck.
When we caught up with my mother and brother, Charles Wallace was sulking. He had seen the end result of the Michael Patterson play he'd been involved with this summer. The workshops ended suddenly, with no reason. Charles Wallace just found out that Mirabell had hijacked the script, rewritten it himself, and presented it as a one-man show about madness, with the main character reminiscing about a non-existant childhood and equally non-existant adult success as a writer. I think it was called "A Scream From the Attic."

What difference does it make

2006-09-22T07:19:00.000-07:00

Another week of school almost over, and it's not soon enough. Zenobia and I have the same slot at the Learning Resources Centre on Thursdays. The grade 9 and 10 students have been turning up, seeing us, and running, except for Jeremy, who ended up getting math help from Zenobia. She says that at least this is all good training for university, but she's hoping to get into Waterloo anyway.
At dinner we got interrupted by my father's imaginary baseball league calling over and over. It seems my father's fake team is in the playoffs, and the other guys in the league have some problems with what the computer's thrown up for my father's pretend baseball games. "Honestly, you don't know what it's like to throw a perfect game!" he kept saying. Charles Wallace was fairly quiet throughout dinner, and my mother asked him how he was.
"You don't know what it's like to be perfectly miserable!" he said, and left the table.
"Not him, too," my mother sighed.
"I guess it's his teacher. She's been spending a lot of time on one student and letting the rest watch DVDs, or do whatever they want to do, and usually whatever they want to do is to punch Charles Wallace," I said. I had enough to worry about. Usually around the end of every month Duncan gets nervous and preoccupied for some reason. He says he can't explain it very much, except that it seems like someone is about to rearrange his life suddenly. Then, after the month starts, he calms down. His band has had a lot of rehearsals lately, so he's been stuck around Cowboy Eva a lot.

That old catastrophe

2006-09-20T12:34:00.000-07:00

Tutoring has more public relations facets than I ever knew. This morning Zenobia, Zapata and I went to the guidance office for our formal tutoring briefing. The computer geeks were there, too. I asked Case, who I knew from history class, what he and the rest of the geeks were there for. "Same as you, I guess. At risk for antisocial behaviour, and strange internet habits." The guidance team came in right then and asked us to sit down.
"Welcome, borderline hostile students. Today R. P. Boire is going to put your misguided research skills and computer expertise to use for the common good. And, to start with, one of our more prominent students, Rebecca McGuire, is in need of a tutor, and in fact expressed that very desire recently in front of one of her fellow students, April Patterson."
"How do you know that?" I asked.
"That's classified school board information, young lady. As I said, Miss McGuire needs a tutor, and one of you will be that tutor." We were sitting a bit uncomfortably at that point. Then the guidance head pointed at Case. "You, you in the iPod. Turn that damn thing off, and get over here. You're tutoring Miss McGuire." Case went over to the guidance team and got a binder full of English class notes and Becky McGuire's class schedule. The rest of us were ushered into the library, where we had to sign up for hours at the "Learning Resources Centre" (a table near the leaky radiator). For some reason, only Case had a single student to tutor.

A rush and a push

2006-09-18T14:22:00.000-07:00

I hate the helping professions. During my spare period I had to see the guidance counsellor again to start making arrangements for my community service. This year I have to tutor grade 9s and 10s in English. At least I don't have to read stories or pick up trash this time. Charles Wallace wandered over to Tim Hortons while I was there with Duncan. According to Charles Wallace, today his teacher had them watch 3 DVDs and learn basic hunting vocabulary in Ojibway. Since Charles Wallace had asked about the necessity of learning hunting vocabulary for life in the suburbs, he got sent to the principal's office. He's now working on a month-long series of grandparent- and trapline- related excuses for getting out of class. Now that Arne's back, maybe he can do something useful for a change and give Charles Wallace some tips on dealing with educational malpractice.

Let's hear it for the vague blur

2006-09-15T04:04:00.000-07:00

Last night at dinner Charles Wallace said, "By the way, my teacher will be away for a non-specified number of days soon because she's been subpoened for a non-specified criminal trial. Can I cut school then?" My parents rolled their eyes. Later the guidance team called the house to ask my parents to monitor my internet use as I was a member of a subculture at risk.
"They said that it's fortunate you have to wear a school uniform, or else they'd really get worried," my father said. It's looking like another year of community service. I finally went back to the therapist, since it was part of the deal my parents worked out so I wouldn't get busted under the Safe Schools Act (although I think the principal's stretching a point a bit by threatening to charge me with creating an intellectually threatening atmosphere for my teachers). The therapist said I had made good work with my online web log, and should carry on. I think my parents are getting a pre-emptive appointment with him for Charles Wallace.

In the country of lost things

2006-07-23T19:30:00.000-07:00

We lost the cat. Funny thing was, we didn't know we had the cat with us. Charles Wallace said, somewhere near Mississagua, "There's a cat in here." We told him he was imagining things. Then he announced what the cat looked like. At that point, Duncan said, "It's Faustus." Duncan didn't know why Faustus was in the van, and he was really concerned not to go near Faustus. Faustus seemed like a nice cat. He let Charles Wallace pet him. We arrived in Mississagua, and actually found the city centre. We got out of the van, and were careful, we thought, to leave the cat in the van. Enid left the windows open just enough for air, and her boyfriend got a waterdish in the van (with water) before he locked up. But it seems we lost the cat. Charles Wallace kept on pointing out where a large black cat seemed to just have been throughout the afternoon. The cat hit the best rib vendors before we did. I think the newspapers got interested, since Charles Wallace did an interview about the cat after we hit the fifth rib stand. Duncan is really upset about the cat. He keeps putting his head in his hands and saying, "Man oh man, I lost the cat again."
We stayed in Mississauga as long as we could looking for his cat. I just hope Duncan had him chipped.

The stubborn structure

2006-07-23T08:37:00.000-07:00

Duncan's suddenly obsessed with going to Ribfest in Mississauga. I have no idea why: he's never expressed an interest in either ribs or Mississauga. He called this morning to try to get me to go, too, and he was looking for someone to drive. He suggested I call Enid.
When I called Enid, she said she'd just been about to phone me. Her boyfriend's got a van for the weekend since they're coming to Milborough to drop off some chairs my aunt had refinished for my mother. She mentioned Ribfest to her boyfriend and he got really excited. Enid warned me that he'd probably eat the ribs ironically, but that's not important.
Then Charles Wallace decided he wanted to go, too. He heard that Ribfest was at the Mississauga City Centre. "Mississauga has no centre, so where can it be?" My parents thought that sending the two of us to Mississauga for the day was a great idea. After we got the chairs out of the van when Enid and her boyfriend got here, we left to pick up Duncan.

Melt

2006-07-14T18:29:00.000-07:00

It's been around 35 degrees all week, and there's no letting up. At least the library is somewhat cooler. Charles Wallace has been whining since the school where the play workshop is being held has no air conditioning, and no fans. I'm glad he's keeping busy, since he's been a bit of a pain lately.
"Sandra, you write like Michael Patterson," he said this morning.
"I do not. I don't use alliteration and assonance, for one thing," I replied.
"Well, you jump around stories just like he does. I read your blog, and you've gone from breaking up with Duncan to being back together and you didn't explain how you went from one to the other. Michael Patterson does that all the time in his play, and in the part of the novel you read to me." I didn't want to admit it, but he was sort of right. I left out getting back with Duncan.
I couldn't think of any other way to do it, so I left a note in a book and then left an anonymous request for Duncan to go get that book off the shelves. He read the note, and then at lunch break I explained how bad I felt, and how Enid and her boyfriend and even Charles Wallace were mad at me and how awful the date with Ed was. Duncan was really happy, and I was happy, and we had a long walk that night.
Then this week Duncan kept getting upset by Michael Patterson hanging around me so much. I kept on telling him that I'm not interested in creepy married guys, but he kept getting annoyed at him. Of course, it was Michael Patterson's own fault he got thrown out of the library.

Formal feeling

2006-07-05T06:53:00.000-07:00

I feel more depressed than ever. I hate holidays, I hate outdoor activities, and I hate myself.
After the disaster of the picnic on Monday, Enid and her boyfriend kept pointing out that it wasn't really all that nice to throw Duncan off the ferry at Hanlan's Point. Yes, they were right, but they didn't have to keep on telling me. Enid said that even though the whole phone message thing showed Duncan was kind of stupid at times, he didn't actually do anything wrong, and it wasn't his fault Kimmi was psycho. They thought Bambi sounded funnier than I did.
At work yesterday I didn't have to see him much, since I was getting trained at the front desk. When I wasn't checking out books, or checking them in, I had to deal with Charles Wallace, who was mad at me since I wasn't speaking to Duncan and I hadn't let him light as many fireworks as he wanted.
"Fireworks hog," he said. "And you're being mean to Duncan."
"Well, his behaviour was really hurtful. And now he's making me talk like Kimmi. I hate that, too." Charles Wallace stomped off quietly and I spent the next hour trying not to look at Duncan. Then Ed showed up.
"Hi Sandra, I thought I'd find you here. What are you doing after work?" Duncan was in the storage room staring right at me, and right then I found myself telling Ed I wasn't doing anything, thank you, and what was he doing? Ed and I left the library together, and I'm pretty sure Duncan saw.
Ed drove around aimlessly for a bit so I could have a good look at his new car, and then he said that he missed the bars in Kingston and he finally found something like them here. As he said this, we pulled up to the Waltzing Weasel. We walked in and the barman said hello to me, and then came over and asked where "the old man" was.
"He'd be cross if I didn't give you this," he said, and brought me a half shandy. Ed looked confused. We sat down, and he proceeded to tell me all about Queens University, Kingston, and how wonderful he was. I was getting fairly bored, and even more depressed than I was when I woke up. Ed broke the monologue with a trip to the bar, and on returning said,
"Why is there a Polaroid of you with your little brother, with both of you waving Swiss flags next to some high school kid and an old man?" That was it.
"Ed, they're English flags. I've been here on average of once a week since the World Cup started, and I actually enjoyed being here with my little brother, except when Portugal beat England. And the high school kid is my boyfriend." Ed looked stunned in a startlingly arrogant way, and tried to talk me into staying out later with him. "Oh, go screw yourself, Ed, and while you're at it screw Zenia. It's not like you haven't done it before."
"How'd you know?" I didn't answer, but asked the barman to call me a cab. I left Ed at the table staring at a pint of Export (with the bar staff laughing at him a little). I had to let Duncan know I wasn't mad at him anymore, and I had to do something fast.

Religious as hell

2006-07-03T08:43:00.000-07:00

Charles Wallace filled me in on what he found about Arne's Canada Day rampage yesterday afternoon.
"Well, Arne did the flaming water trick in front of the statue of Queen Victoria downtown, and managed to do something to corrode her left arm. He said he was reclaiming his territory as Milborough's finest illusionist. Then he did something with the dry ice in front of the police station. He tried to do the trick with the doves next, but the doves died or something and he was right in front of the Humane Society's information table."
"Not good."
"Then he did the Wall of Canada trick in front of the Three Kronen, but nothing happened there since Ivar said that Arne's paid about twenty years worth of rent, and then on his way here he did the Rampaging Dust Devil trick. I think he scorched all the front lawns between the Three Kronen and here." I had more coffee, and thought about how happy I was passed out yesterday afternoon, until Charles Wallace dumped water on me. He claimed Duncan told him to do it. Duncan wanted me up so we could go to the Vatikan for its last night. I got dressed fast and met Duncan and April at the GO station. I was still a little shaky. Someone on the train near us pointed at me and said, "Those suburban goth kids--they really get into it." Duncan said I just looked really, really pale instead of just really pale. We got to the Vatikan and I went to get something to drink. When I got back to Duncan and April, they were both looking horrified. A nun had walked into the club.
"I think she's lost," I said.
"No, she's not lost, it's Kimmi," Duncan said unhappily. "She's come after me."
"Great--Becky McGuire leaves, with Cowboy Eva with her, and you still have exes coming out of the walls. And didn't she have a vocation or something?" Duncan nodded.
"That's what she wrote..."
"But who knows what it's a vocation for," April said. Kimmi certainly looked more like that fighting nun character than Mother Theresa.
"Duncan, I've waited for you," Kimmi screamed as she ran over. Duncan tried to go under the table. "Come on, let's go."
"No you don't, he's here with me," I said. April said something about energy drinks and went up to get a few right then.
"OK, dead girl, give me back my boyfriend," Kimmi said. She started twirling her rosary menacingly.
"He's mine, and don't threaten me," I said. The only advantage I had over Kimmi right then was height, as I was still hungover. I meant to just stare at her, but I lurched over the chair and almost fell into her. Kimmi screamed again, and Duncan took off for the men's room. "You left him, you told him you had a vocation, and you broke his heart. Don't expect to just pick him up like that," I added. April then got a text message from Duncan--he was going to the squat. "All right, April, we're getting a cab." We ran out the door, and hailed a taxi. Kimmi jumped in with us.
"I have to find my MCDunC..."she stared. She wouldn't get out, no matter what I told her, until I threatened to leave her under the Gardiner if she didn't shut up. We got to the squat, and I went in first.
"Duncan? It's safe to come out," I called. April walked in next, and got hit by the smell.
"Dunc, toilet paper wasn't enough," she said. Then we both stopped at the same time. Duncan was huddled in a corner, with Bambi trying to get him to come out.
"Is she using the peanuts or her breasts?" April asked.
"God, I hope it's the peanuts," I said. Kimmi ran in next, then the squeegie gang ran out. "How scary can a fake nun be?" Duncan was still in the corner. April and I went over to him, and he started to explain that the squeegie gang was being bothered by some separate high school downtown (Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow, I think he said it was) that wanted to rehabilitate them for their community service hours. Kimmi just looked stunned. We couldn't think of anything else to do, so we went back to the Vatikan and tried to enjoy its last night ever. Kimmi had gone off somewhere else by then. We got back into Milborough really late (or really early, depending on how you wanted to read the clock) and I was soundly out until Charles Wallace woke me up.

Absence, havoc

2006-07-03T07:30:00.000-07:00

Charles Wallace is making me get out of bed again. He says he's lonely.
"No one's around except you, Sandra," he said.
"Where's Mom and Dad?"
"At Dad's office. They're trying to install the new tax tables and Mom's got a bunch of programs downloaded they hope will have the right Java platform."
"And grandad?"
"I had to disable his computer so he wouldn't send threatening email to Wayne Rooney."
"Good, Charles Wallace. Having one relative wanted by the police is enough." Charles Wallace was serious about being lonely--he even made me coffee. I got my robe on and we went downstairs.
We sat in the kitchen and looked out over the backyard. My father had put the barbecue back together yesterday afternoon, but the tree near the fence still looked pretty bad, with half its bark blown off. The rose bushes were fairly shredded, too. Charles Wallace's supply of fireworks was still near the sink, poor guy. I told him I'd help him light them tonight.
Everything started on Saturday morning. My grandfather thought it would be a good idea to have everyone watch the England game together. Unfortunately right then my mother had a medical emergency come up and my father remembered that he had to reset everything since the GST went down that day. So it was only me, Charles Wallace, and Duncan who went with my grandfather back to the Waltzing Weasel for the game. England lost on penalty kicks, after a 0-0 game, and the bar cleared out really fast after the game. My grandfather went straight to the basement with a six-pack of lager when we got in. At least he had cover that afternoon.
The Andersons arrived around 2, as did April. My mother had assured Mrs. Anderson that Arne would not show up, and Mr. Anderson seemed happy to be in a place where no-one talked about trains. I asked April some questions about her brother, and Charles Wallace played Scrabble on the patio with Duncan and Mrs. Anderson. Things continued on fairly quietly until right after my father took the burgers off the grill.
Arne had vaulted over the garden gate, with a strange cloud behind him. My father dropped the barbecue tongs.
"Arne, you said you were going on tour with Torvald's roadshow!" My father was really getting angry at that point.
"I'll meet the tour later--Torvald doesn't know I'm turning up. I thought I was in for the long haul with Magician's Block, but it's over--I'm an illusionist again!" Aside from the cloud behind him, he seemed normal enough. My father cautiously invited him over and we all settled down again.
I think it all really started when Arne went in to mix drinks. He wasn't very clear on what they were, but the mess on the kitchen counter pointed to them being green-flavour drink-crystal based. It seemed safe enough. It was getting pretty hot, so the Andersons, April, and I stuck to whatever Arne was producing in the pitcher. Around the time Charles Wallace was about to start lighting his fireworks, Arne looked up, checked his watch, and said, "It's time." I distinctly heard a police siren in the distance then. Arne announced that, in honour of Canada Day, he was going to make the maple tree near the back fence disappear.
"Why make the maple tree disappear?" April asked. Obviously it wasn't a time for logic.
"I had a dream about all this last night. You were in it, and you..." My father cut Arne off there.
"You said that the last time you passed out watching The Wizard of Oz."
"No, Don, this is true. Something came to me--some sort of magician-guide guy--and told me to face my fears, and I would be worthy of my illusionist name."
"What, Man Who Causes Property Damage?" I had to ask.
"You may mock, family members and neighbours, but I have got it back." And he then started warming up with the moves he learned from the Power Rangers film. "Where once was a tree, now there is OH HELL WHERE THE ***K DID THAT LIGHTER FLUID COME FROM" He hadn't backed away from the barbecue yet, and my father had it on low so Charles Wallace could make s'mores. The lighter fluid went out in a flaming arc from his sleeve to the tree. Arne turned in the other direction, but managed to make the flame run from his other sleeve to the pitcher on the table.
"That's not cheap drink crystals!" April shouted. My mother was turning a shade of red I hadn't seen her do in a few years.
"I should have realized that--I didn't buy any drink powder. What the hell's in that?" She was shaking Arne at the same time she was trying to put his eyebrows out.
"I thought I told you--I made Bullfrogs. Five pitchers worth. It's my best drink recipe: ginger ale and Alcool." That explained a lot, like why everything in the back yard, and not just the barbecue, seemed to be spinning. My mother called a cab for the Andersons and April, and went to get more first aid related equipment for Arne. Arne, though, had jumped back over the gate in a cloud of dry ice. My father checked for gas leaks and then sent Charles Wallace inside. My mother helped me up to bed and left a liter of water on my nightstand.

Favourite story

2006-06-30T06:41:00.000-07:00

I finally read the end of that Patterson play. Charles Wallace handed the last few pages of the script to me, and said, "I can't fix that."
"Why not?"
"You haven't read it, Sandra. It can't be fixed. He can type that stuff but you can't speak it." It sounded like a challenge, so I told Charles Wallace to come into my room with a cup of coffee and a red pen. I then went in and settled in at my desk with the play.
The little twerp was right. I can only hope that it was a dream sequence: Michael Patterson grows up, and then becomes the first Prime Minister to get the Nobel Prize for Literature while simultaneously editing Macleans, Portrait, and The National Globe Star Sun. Then, the University of Western Ontario spontaneously changes its name to Patterson U. Charles Wallace came back with the coffee and then started puttering around in my books. He pulled one out, looked at a few pages, then said,
"Maybe this would work. You've got neat stuff in here." He had my copy of Poems Twice Told in his hands. Maybe he'd discover literature in all this and become normal. He started reading from one poem. "last, to him descend the/Murdering angels.' Cool!"
"You're right--that might work, although he'd probably notice if he died at the end of his own play."
"Don't the heroes always die in the stuff you read? Hamlet died, you said, and Macbeth, and in Lord of the Rings Frodo died," he said. There's hope for him yet, I thought.

Civil disobedience

2006-06-29T07:47:00.000-07:00

We've been busted, sort of. Mirabell came over to speak with me and Charles Wallace after the play workshop yesterday.
"Try to make it a little less obvious, you two. That Patterson moron found his script."
"What was wrong?" Charles Wallace isn't very good at being disingenuous.
"Wrong? The bloody explosions, that's what! He didn't notice the line changes, but the explosions--just tone it down." Mirabell stormed off and Charles Wallace and I walked home.
"Well, what should we do now, Sandra? He's taken all the fun out of it."
"Saturday's Canada Day, so you can light off as many fireworks as you like. We'll just stick to fixing the script," I told him. For one thing, the ending had to go. And the middle.
My father's planning the whole North American holiday thing for the weekend, so we're having a barbecue on Saturday after the England game. Every night this week after dinner he's asked Charles Wallace if there's anything incendiary in the backyard, and where it is. My mother's invited the Andersons, with the added lure of Arne being ready to go on some sort of tour with Torvald McGuire and thus being out of commission. I told her to tell Mrs. Anderson to tell Duncan to bring April. Maybe Charles Wallace and I can quiz her on ways to fool her brother.

Pretty or not

2006-06-26T21:03:00.000-07:00

Duncan and I don't start work at the library until after the holiday weekend, so I had the day free (except for having to get Charles Wallace after school). I went to my mother's office to do some photocopying and ran into Arne in the hallway. He didn't look very good.
"Torvald said I had to get some help, since he can't afford to have me miss any more work, and Huskuld's getting exhausted by doing two shows a night," Arne said.
"Help?" I don't think I sounded very sympathetic.
"Real help. I've got Magician's Block, and it's affecting my work," Arne explained.
"Magician's Block?"
"Yes. It's the sudden inability to perform illusions, and ever since the Limeys beat Sweden I've been trapped in a hell of reality. I can't even do a simple card routine." He was at the medical building to get a doctor's referral.
"I thought Mom was your doctor," I said. Arne shook his head violently.
"What, and have my sister-in-law doing prostate tests on me? No, I see Dr. Scholls."

Want a riot of my own

2006-06-25T23:55:00.000-07:00

Another really long day. The England/Ecuador game started at 10:30 a.m., and my grandfather took me, Charles Wallace, and Duncan to the Waltzing Weasel for it. They had a special Ye Olde Royal Beefeater Bulldog Churchill breakfast feature: $8.95 for three eggs, bacon, sausage, ham, kippers, scones, jam, cream, trifle, baked beans, beans on toast, fried mushrooms and a grilled tomato. I think Charles Wallace took the remnants of ours back home later (he said he had something in mind for the kippers). The owner of the bar got a restraining order against Arne so there was no danger of him showing up. My grandfather was in a foul mood by the time the game ended, but it was England's fault.
After that Duncan and I went to Toronto to meet up with Enid at the main Pride parade (her boyfriend was helping someone synchronize sound for something that day). Duncan said he saw Howard, and much to our surprise the Milborough/Eastgate PFLAG was there (well, who knew we had one?), and Duncan said Connie Poirier and her son Lawrence were marching. When the parade was over, we were going to wander a bit in the west end but someone told us that the Portugal/Netherlands game was getting really ugly and that "Tiny Amsterdam" (as the city streetsigns called it) was basically a no-go zone. So we had something to eat and went to the Vatikan.

Long day's journey into something

2006-06-24T22:43:00.000-07:00

It's been a really long day. Duncan wanted to go into Toronto for the Dyke March. He said it was an important cultural event that he should see to understand a part of Canadian society.
"No, you just want to look at topless women," I said. Duncan didn't argue about that, and pointed out that he also wanted to go see his friends at the squat.
We met Enid and her boyfriend at the corner of Yonge and Isabella and settled in for the parade. Enid's boyfriend insisted on filming it, but he was only one of an army of guys filming, photographing, or recording the parade. Afterwards Duncan mentioned that he wanted to go to the squat with some toilet paper, and Enid's boyfriend said that he had a Costco card and a car and that it would be a great opportunity to get some interesting footage. We bought a lot of toilet paper and then Duncan tried to remember how to get to the squat. Luckily Bambi was at the corner with her squeegie when we were really lost, and directed us to the right place. Squeegiing topless gives you an even tan, I guess. Duncan hadn't mentioned exactly how rough the squat was: Enid's boyfriend thought better of filming, for one thing. Duncan dropped off the toilet paper, said hello to the people he knew, and said a slightly lingering goodbye to Bambi.
There was a cricket event going on in Sunnybrook Park in the evening, so Duncan and Enid's boyfriend went to it while Enid and I browsed records at Sonic Boom and then waited at the Second Cup at Bloor and Lippincott for them to come back. After that, Duncan and I went back to Milborough and went home.

So you go and you stand on your own

2006-06-23T08:36:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I had my math and chemistry exams. Thanks, R. P. Boire, for maximizing my misery in a more efficient way than you've done already. Last night at dinner my mother stared suspiciously at my brother and me.
"Dr. Patterson says that his son Michael's play is getting a workshopped production in one of the public schools, and that Michael's thrilled with the student they got to play him. Funny thing, though, according to Dr. Patterson, this particular student already has an agent. Michael told him that the agent seemed competent, although she was dressed in an R. P. Boire uniform for some reason. Do you two know anything about this?"
"Er, I should have changed before I went to the rehearsal?" I asked.
"I really worry when you two start working together on something," my mother said.
Tonight's the prom. I sort of have a date for it, since Duncan's playing at it, but I guess I'll be spending most of the evening watching Jeremy do the sound (it'll give me a good view of Eva so I can make sure she doesn't use her targeting breasts on Duncan). Charles Wallace sulked a bit about not being able to go.
"You're too young, and anyway, you have to fix your lines. The scene where Michael discovers his vocation as a writer needs a lot of work. I want to see the first re-write tomorrow afternoon," I told him.
"When I asked you to be my agent, I didn't think you'd actually act like one," he said.

How can you lie there and think of England when you don't even know who's in the team

2006-06-21T21:31:00.000-07:00

Arne had walked out of the England/Sweden game after the first half since no-one at the Three Kronen cared about it. I think Ivar had helped him out the door, too. Milborough was having a small town day, and the Swedish side of town was just down the road from the High Street today. Duncan walked over to the table looking confused until Arne tripped over him.
"That makes sense. At least he's not at my house with my father," Duncan said. I still have no idea how Arne made Mr. Anderson be his friend. My grandfather came back with the menus at that point, and said hello to Duncan and did he want a drink?
"Oh, sure, an apple juice or cider, whatever they have," Duncan said. My grandfather went back to the bar and soon brought back a pint and a half of lager, a cola type thing, and a pint of something else.
"Here's your cider, lad," my grandfather said. Duncan started to drink it, then asked me if it was alcoholic. I said yes, but at that moment Arne decided to do his "change a bill into pennies" trick. This time he changed a $10.00 into at least $5.00 worth of pennies over the bar, poker machine, and two tables of soccer fans.
"Magic show's up, Viking boy," came a voice from one of the affected tables. It was Constable Luggsworth.
"I'm an artist, you stupid cop," Arne said. "No prison can hold me!" Then he tried to do his "disappear in a cloud of dust" trick, but he tried to disappear right into Luggsworth. This was working out to be the shortest Arne encounter ever. Luggsworth took Arne out to the squad car, and we got food just as the second half started.
Duncan kept getting more depressed as the game went on, since the Trinidad and Tobago/Paraguay game was on one of the side televisions. My grandfather kept buying him pints of cider. By the time the game ended, Duncan was telling my grandfather all about being pushed into the goat pen.
"You're lucky, lad. When I was your age, we had no goat pen: we just kept the goat in a hole near the house. The leaky one-room house." Duncan went to the washroom and my grandfather said that Duncan was the best young man I'd ever gone with. "Holds his drink better than the last one, too." My mother arrived around this point to drive us all home.

Procedures for underground

2006-06-20T21:54:00.000-07:00

Charles Wallace didn't have to be taken out of school today: the England/Sweden game was at 3:00 p.m., which gave me time to study in the high school library with Zenobia and Zapata beforehand. Jeremy Jones tried to thank me for my grade 9 notes, but at that point I was late for getting Charles Wallace.
We set out for the Waltzing Weasel after a stop at home so we could get our England kit on (Charles Wallace had the red shirt, I had the white) and my grandfather could make sure my mother knew to pick us up at 5:00 p.m.. Charles Wallace was still whining a bit.
"I hate sports. What's so important about soccer?"
"It's the easiest game to play, idiot. All you have to do is run around a lot near the ball. Charles Wallace, even I have a soccer trophy." He appeared somewhat mollified by that.
The Waltzing Weasel is on Milborough's High Street, on a strip with Championship Vinyl, Greenwood Stationers, the Ellesmere tea room, and Finch, Wilson & Coxwell: Barristers and Solicitors. The pub was filling up when we got in. My grandfather set Charles Wallace up with an NTN gameplayer, and we waited to get drinks. We had a bit of a problem there.
"A pint of lager, and a half of shandy for the lass," my grandfather ordered.
"Is she over nineteen?" the server asked.
"I was drinking lager out of a rusty can when I was 10--give the girl a half shandy, you mealy-..." The server scuttled away at that. Unfortunately the men around the bar heard that, and one of them pointed at me and asked,
"Aren't you the girl with the cracking bust what was in that play at the high school?" I turned red, and then my grandfather said,
"That's my granddaughter--she's got an 89 average at the high school." I wondered if I could stay in the women's room for the whole 90 minutes of the game. Luckily, after the kickoff, everyone (except Charles Wallace) concentrated on the game. It was hard not to get caught up in it. At half-time, Charles Wallace demanded food, and my grandfather went off to find someone with menus. Then Charles Wallace looked up.
"Look, Sandra, look who just came in," It was Duncan, who looked a bit annoyed.
"Great, it's Duncan," I said, but Charles Wallace still pointed at the door. "Oh hell." Right behind Duncan was a large man with a blue and yellow Viking helmet on. "It's Arne."

Fever pitch

2006-06-19T19:46:00.000-07:00

I've been fairly busy the past few days. At least now with exams things will slow down. On Saturday I went to Toronto with Duncan and his parents to Barbados on the Water. On Sunday I got my grade 9 notes out for Duncan and settled in to study for my chemistry exam with my mother's help. Charles Wallace gave me a few tips for my pre-calculus exam on condition that I help him rework a speech from the play he's in. The rehearsal on Friday for it was interesting. I met Charles Wallace in front of his school, and he said, "Try to look like an agent."
"What do agents look like, anyway?" I asked. He didn't say anything but gave me a pair of sunglasses that I distinctly recall having been mine once (from a Burger King Kids meal circa 1998). I put them on and the two of us went to the rehearsal, which was being held in the library.
The director looked very familiar, and he started when he saw me. I glared at him and then walked purposefully to the non-fiction section where he went to hide.
"Mr. Mirabell, that's a really bad disguise. My uncle has better false moustaches, and he shops grey market."
"Well, what do you expect? I can't go back to work under my real name after that debacle. I'm reduced to midwifing that buffoon's semi-literate platitudes."
"With my brother in the lead." At that point Mirabell groaned.
"I can't get away from that damn family of yours, can I? Your uncle lends me substandard machinery, you manage to get fog poisoning, and now your brother is in this wretched excuse for a play."
"And I'm his agent," I said. Mirabell groaned again. "Don't worry--don't tell anyone why I'm here and I won't tell the school board you're here." He agreed. The students in the play sat at a table with their play scripts while Mirabell led the run-through, and I sat behind Charles Wallace. I thought the play read badly, but it sounded worse. Only Charles Wallace read without stumbling over any of the words. Three hours later Charles Wallace and I were able to go home.
Fortunately he didn't have a workshop today: I had two exams today and couldn't face the words of Michael Patterson after all that. When I got home I saw that my grandfather was back from Oshawa. He had decided that since England was playing tomorrow, he needed quality time with his grandchildren. He convinced my mother to take Charles Wallace out of school for the afternoon (cultural experience, he said) to join him, and me (I didn't have any exams scheduled) at the Waltzing Weasel for the game.
"But grandad, you hate the Waltzing Weasel," Charles Wallace said.
"No matter, lad, it's got a high definition big screen television and cheap bar snacks during the game. It's an important part of your ethnic heritage." My grandfather went out to get the paper at that point. Charles Wallace looked alarmed.
"Just look at it as a kind of school trip," I said.
"But it's sports," Charles Wallace whined.
"Sports, and important parts of our ethnic heritage like cheap bar snacks and beer," I reminded him. He cheered up a bit. I was happy since I was pretty sure there'd be little, if no, chance of Arne leaving his barstool at the Three Kronen for the game.

Far from the madding crowd

2006-06-17T09:04:00.000-07:00

Charles Wallace and I were both pretty surprised to find Duncan in the kitchen last night. Duncan said that he thought someone knew he was coming back to Milborough, and was taking evasive action. Considering that Eva and Jeremy had just left the yard, that was a good idea. Duncan seemed really hungry, so I said I'd order pizza. Once that was taken care of, Duncan asked if he could have a shower, since it had been about a week or so since he had one. Charles Wallace thought that was cool (the not having a shower part), but didn't have a chance to convince Duncan not to wash since Duncan had bolted upstairs.
The pizza arrived, and all three of us ate. Charles Wallace kept asking Duncan questions about life as a squeegie kid.
"The next time you run away, Duncan, can I come with you? You do neat things," he said. Duncan had told us about his friends, especially Bambi the topless squeegier. By the time Duncan finished the pizza, it was fairly late. Even Charles Wallace was tired out. He went to his room and then Duncan and I went to bed. I asked him if he and Bambi were more than just friends, and he said no, since there's no running water at the squat.
This morning around 6:00 he said he was going to make a break for a double-double at Tim Horton's, then go back to Toronto for more squeeging and a quick trip to Barbados on the Water. He said he'd be back this evening, and I said I'd get his books out of his locker at the high school, and get my old notes out (I had pointed out to Duncan that I kept all my grade 9 class notes, and he said he'd probably need help getting through the exams). Duncan went through the window, and I went back to sleep.

Secret state

2006-06-16T21:19:00.000-07:00

Well, Duncan's not here, but it seems everyone else in Milborough is. Charles Wallace was disappointed about Duncan, but decided to watch the yard anyway.
"You go and torture Arne in Magictown," he said. "I think I hear something in the rose bushes." I went to his room and sat at his computer, thinking about what to do to Arne Sim. Then I heard Charles Wallace yell. "It's Storm! She's in the lilacs!"
I went outside and saw Eva cowering in the lilac bush. Charles Wallace had one of his spare roman candles in his hand and a lighter. "I thought you only used your powers for good," he said to Eva.
"She only uses her powers for smirk," I said.
"That's not nice," I heard from the arbutus. It was Jeremy Jones.
"Sorry, Jeremy," I said. "Why are you all in my mother's greenery?" They both started some story about burglers, rogue senior citizens, confidence men, and mutant plants. "It's all right. Our plants are normal, my grandfather's in Oshawa, and no-one has any confidence in us." They seems satisfied, or at least Jeremy did. He whispered something to Eva, and they both left, although Eva kept looking back. Charles Wallace waved the roman candle meaningfully until we couldn't see them anymore.
"You've got a weird school, Sandra," he said. I agreed, and we went in. Charles Wallace had left the back door open, and when we went in we found Duncan there, getting some milk out of the fridge.

The spirit of solitude

2006-06-16T06:23:00.000-07:00

Duncan's been negotiated back, and that makes me feel a lot better. I can put up with whatever Zenia throws at me today. Before I left for school I had to brief my co-conspirator. Charles Wallace was delighted.
"Cool! He's coming back! Can I see him?"
"Only for a little bit. I want to maintain your plausible deniability." He seemed happy at that, but then he thought a bit.
"Sandra, you know I won't tell on him, but would you do me a favour after you get out of school today?"
"What kind of favour?"
"Be my agent. We're meeting our director for that awful play today, and.." I cut him off.
"Charles Wallace, I'm not eighteen--how the hell can I be your agent?"
"Easy--we sign everything, then when it looks really bad, we reveal that everything's invalid since both of us are under eighteen! It's a great loophole." He was right, and since he wasn't a lawyer, and was under ten years of age, it sounded ethical enough. I agreed to walk over to his school after my last class.

Formal feeling

2006-06-15T19:15:00.000-07:00

Duncan remembered to call tonight. He's staying in a squat in Toronto, so I can't be annoyed that he called collect. He said he was starting his life as a fugitive. I pointed out that fugitives usually didn't post their movements on their friends' blogs. Then he admitted that he kind of wanted to be back here, and when I told him that if he missed his exams they'd make him repeat Grade 9 if they ever found him, he said he'd come back. I said that he could hide out here if he didn't want to go straight back to his house, since my mother'll be on duty at the hospital again tomorrow, and my father had a meeting of his pretend baseball league. Duncan said that sounded all right, and that he'd be here around 8:00 tomorrow night.
I didn't feel as bad today as I did yesterday, since I had heard from April what Duncan was up to. Jeremy Jones was really nice and sympathetic: he walked me home today, even though it was a bit strained with Eva muttering "manstealer" every few minutes.

Academy fight song

2006-06-15T05:45:00.000-07:00

I was too upset to post anything last night. Duncan didn't leave a message at 8:00 p.m. like he said he would, so what was the point. Charles Wallace tried to cheer me up by showing me his Sims and making bad things happen to his Arne Sim. It was a good effort.
School was horrible. Eva must have some contagious disease, since Zenia was smirking all day too. The teacher they hired to replace Mirabell in English decided to go all hippy and make us share our feelings about our friend the missing student.
"How do you all feel about this? Anyone?"
"I'm certainly not going to tell you how I feel, and at the moment, I don't care what people who barely know him feel," I said. Then Steve Harper started.
"You're just upset since you drove him out of Milborough," he said. The teacher looked at him. "Not literally, just in a metaphoric sense."
"Shall I drive you out of here? Not metaphorically, but in a literal sense?" I asked Steve. He was about to answer when the teacher got nervous and sent us both to the principal's office, after using the class phone to call in a "3-23."
The principal was ready for us. "Ah, a "3-23"--blatant contempt for teaching professionals. Isn't this the second time you've been here for one of those, Sandra?"
Steve was gloating. I was glaring. The principal noticed both. "Oh, if this were fiction, you two deadly enemies would realize you actually liked each other and start happily dating." This was getting ridiculous.
"I'm sorry if you have trouble telling the difference between fiction and reality, but.." I got cut off there.
"Really, Sandra, do you want to make your problems worse?" The principal had a point, even though he was a buffoon. I shut up, Steve stopped audibly gloating, and we listened to the principal deliver a few bromides from the "Calming Surly Students" course he took recently. Luckily, since English was my last class of the day, I could go home after this.

The robber bride

2006-06-13T19:44:00.000-07:00

I thought things would start to get quieter today. I was wrong. My grandfather left this morning to go to Oshawa for a week or so to see some of his old friends from his local, and Arne's hiding somewhere. When I got to school Zenobia told me that Zenia said that I'd bought Duncan a killer whale pattern Razr to replace the one his cousin threw at the whale.
"That's so untrue, and pretty evil, too," I said.
"Well, Zenia never saw a couple that she didn't want to uncouple," Zenobia said. I didn't see Duncan at school, so I thought he must have taken to his bed again.
Then my parents seemed kind of distracted. My mother's annoyed since Dr. Patterson has left funeral pre-planning pamphlets all over the lobby of the medical building and near her office.
"I can't get him to realize that it's all about location. Location, location--why would I want funeral advice near my office?" Meanwhile my father phoned my aunt the lawyer about getting what sounded like a "legal declaration of non-fraternity." Charles Wallace was busy blue-pencilling his script from Michael Patterson. After my father got off the phone with my aunt, and Charles Wallace took his script up to his room, the phone rang. My mother answered and talked worriedly for a bit. After she hung up, she asked me if I knew where Duncan was.
"I thought he stayed home in bed--he was pretty upset about the whole Marineland thing."
"No, Miranda says he disappeared this morning, and he doesn't seem to have any money or anything. I told her that you'd tell us if you knew where he was." This was serious. I told my mother I'd certainly let her and my father know if I knew where Duncan was. I went up to my room, telling Charles Wallace along the way that I didn't feel like fixing prose tonight.

Whether tis nobler

2006-06-12T18:07:00.000-07:00

I hate stupid teenage girls who wave their breasts at guys and just smirk. I've just gotten back from Tim Horton's and Duncan's belated birthday-type gathering. Eva spent the whole evening plastering her chest in Duncan's face, with occasional side swipes to Jeremy, who she's supposed to be dating. Jeremy put up with it, and occasionally looked at me sympathetically when Eva's chest made Duncan strain his eyes. Of course, it was a bit of a job to get Duncan to show up anyway.
When I got home from school Charles Wallace called me into his room and showed me the top videos of the day from You Tube. Three of them were of Duncan getting his cell phone eaten by a killer whale at Marineland.
"Fish fone?" I asked. Charles Wallace said that that one was rated #2.
"Only the one with the guy dancing in Dundas Square got ranked higher for the week." I looked at a few others.
"'Jaws Call Home,'oh, and here's one from Japan: 'Baby prank on fish boy.'" At that Charles Wallace ran to leave a message for Duncan about that one. It was getting to be time to go to Tim Horton's, so I walked over to Duncan's house to go over with him. His mother said he was in bed, but I was welcome to see if I could get him out of it. That seemed like an odd thing to say, and an odd place to be at the hour, but I went to his room and found him with the blankets pulled up over his head, face down.
"No, it can't be time for the baby to sleep, no, no..." he said weakly. I told him I didn't have any infants on hand and he had to get up to go to Tim Hortons. He asked me if I'd seen the videos. I said yes, Charles Wallace pointed them out to me. "I've got to move, change my name, I can't go to Barbados anymore, Aunt Perdita's there, I think I'll go to Caracas, or somewhere where they don't speak English or Japanese and no-one has internet access." He was moving, at least, and after a bit I got him out the door and into Tim Hortons, whatever good that did me with Eva wandering about as if she were led by her breasts' sonar.

Red card

2006-06-11T21:12:00.000-07:00

It's finally quiet around here. It's been a long day. Today we had the traditional Sunday roast, and my aunt and uncle and Enid were here. My grandfather watched the morning soccer game, and everything seemed fine as dinner started. About the time my father put the knife to the roast, Arne turned up. As soon as he stumbled into the dining room, my grandfather stood up and pointed at him.
"You hooligan! You threw cheap Scandinavian beer at my car!" Arne froze.
"It's not cheap, it's over $10.00 a six pack!" Then my mother started.
"That's my car, Dad, not yours," The three of them went on. My father looked like he wanted to die right there. Then Arne pulled himself together and said he was leaving.
"I'm going, don't worry. Just remember this, Don," and then he started singing "Everything I Do, I Do for You." He hit a high note badly as the front door shut. My father still looked stunned,
but said,
"I have no brother. Roast beef?" Dinner was kind of anticlimactic after that.

A small part of a foreign field forever English

2006-06-10T10:49:00.000-07:00

The England game's over: they beat Paraguay 1-0. My grandfather's back from driving around the neighbourhood with the flag, and apparently, according to him, a pair of hooligans threw beer cans at him. One hit the car, and my mother's outside looking for dents. Strangely, my grandfather was really sure that the beer cans in question were Banks and Carlsberg. I think Arne's back.
Charles Wallace is insisting I help him find an agent. He says he wants to act, too, since I did it, and this Michael Patterson person is really leaning on him hard to play his younger self in some autobiographical mess he's writing up. Charles Wallace says the script is a bit weak, and the Michael Patterson character is a bit of a wimp, but he's sure he can fix the bad spots and improvise a bit.
"Listen to this speech, Sandra: 'I do not deign to enter into hostilities with such as you, my tormentor, for to accede to violence is to become violence.'"
"You're right, that is crap. Are you sure you can fix this mess?" He said yes, but he asked if I'd help him. I said yes.

World in motion

2006-06-09T14:45:00.000-07:00

I hate planning things, since they always fall through. Duncan's birthday is Sunday, and I had started making plans with Enid for something in Toronto. Then Duncan's relatives from Barbados were coming to Canada on Sunday, and he had to go with his parents to Toronto to meet them. All right, I thought, I'd just have something for him here, on Saturday. Just as I was about to start planning that, my mother announced that my grandfather was coming on Friday night and would be staying with us, and my aunt in Toronto, for a month. My grandfather's lived most of his life in Ontario, but he was born in England, and ever since he retired from GM (and after my grandmother died), he's been more or less living in whatever is the ancestrial home in the North Riding. He's about as English as Arne is Swedish, and as it's World Cup time, we'll be doing the full ethnic thing: watching soccer, Sunday roast dinner, and all that sort of thing. And we'll be watching the England games here, as my grandfather called Milborough's one attempted English pub "shite" and "a mucky cheap mess." On the other hand, he was right: The Waltzing Weasel is pretty awful.
So my mother's got the England flag out to put on the car for the games. England and Sweden are in the same group, but my father said not to worry about the Swedish flag, since Arne no doubt would turn up with it whenever he resurfaces.

Dusted

2006-06-04T10:06:00.000-07:00

It's going to be an uphill battle keeping Eva off Duncan. I went to the band rehearsal yesterday, and I practically had to manacle her to keep her hands to herself. April was trying to keep some sort of order, while Jeremy fought with the sound and Becky McGuire kept running off with Luis the keyboardist. I was trying to be helpful, and gave a few requests, but Eva kept on saying, "It would help if you suggested things people actually know. There's a reason cowboys don't bring their girlfriends along on the roundups."
"Whatever, never mind," I said, and the cycle started anew.

A descent through the carpet

2006-05-31T05:58:00.000-07:00

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

2006-05-29T18:39:00.000-07:00

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

2006-05-27T08:51:00.000-07:00

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

2006-05-26T13:18:00.000-07:00

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

2006-05-25T16:23:00.000-07:00

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

2006-05-21T09:25:00.000-07:00

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

2006-05-19T15:12:00.000-07:00

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

2006-05-18T18:51:00.000-07:00

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

2006-05-18T16:32:00.000-07:00

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

2006-05-15T16:24:00.000-07:00

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

2006-05-14T13:33:00.000-07:00

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

2006-05-12T19:27:00.000-07:00

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

2006-05-11T18:34:00.000-07:00

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

2006-05-09T15:20:00.000-07:00

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

2006-05-06T14:52:00.000-07:00

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

2006-05-03T17:23:00.000-07:00

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

2006-05-01T18:17:00.000-07:00

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!"

Melt and resolve

2006-04-29T07:48:00.000-07:00

I feel like hell. According to my mother, I've got whatever Charles Wallace has. Arne was over again, pestering us to read his work for his stupid writing course.
"I can't understand why you kids are sick all the time," he said.
"Maybe it's because Mom's a family doctor. Or maybe it's because your crap fog machine damaged my lungs," I answered.
"Sure, hold a grudge. How could I know that deeply-discounted, used equipment without a warranty would malfunction?" Arne went off to get Charles Wallace to help him log onto his stupid class's stupid website. Duncan phoned, and I coughed a bit at him over the line. He said he's in better shape than me, since he was either in the shower or out with Birnam Wood during the worst of the performance. Mirabell's under heavy sedation, Duncan also said, since he tried to get the nurses at Milborough General into a version of Timon of Athens. When Duncan and I got off the phone, Arne wandered in again.
"You're the only teenager I know," he started.
"And that's my misfortune, not yours."
"Hey, be nice. I'm having a professional crisis here."
"How can you have a professional crisis when you just started working?" Arne said the problem was with the old people at the early shows at the Valhalla.
"I'm a magician, dammit, a master of illusions, and stop giggling. Those old folks think everything I'm doing is real! What's the point of it all?"
"Getting paid regularly?" I suggested. He scoffed.
"My illusions are wasted on them!" I said he could just keep it up until they started to realize he was faking it, and he looked a little happier. I just wanted him to go away.