Читать книгу Ann Alma Children's Library 2-Book Bundle - Ann Alma - Страница 8

Lee woke up at 6:14. She stretched and noticed she was still wearing her shorts and T-shirt. She was covered with a blanket and her shoes lay beside the bed. Minnie, her gray tabby, lay curled up beside her pillow, one paw outstretched. She started purring, but didn’t move.

Mom must have come and tucked her in. Lee didn’t remember waking up. Just as well. She’d be just like that with everyone from now on- asleep, deaf, silent.

She got up quietly, but stepped on the pencil stub. Swallowing her scream, she kicked the stub across the room.

With a longer pencil, she scribbled:

Another dreary day. I may move tonight. I won’t even tell Alex. Maybe I’ll live in the mountains–the bears and cougars should leave me alone. I’ll eat berries. I’ll make it on my own. They’ll all be sorry!!!

She bit hard on the end of her pencil. Putting her journal in her pack and picking up her shoes, Lee walked to the front door. She’d leave early for school. Her stomach growled. She’d better take some food. Opening the fridge, she shoved aside the milk, cheese and bits of left-over chicken. Never mind her mother’s rule about eating a healthy breakfast. Lee grabbed the bread and jam and headed for the counter.

As she rummaged in the drawer for a paper bag, her mother walked in, tying the belt of her faded cotton housecoat.

“You’re up at the crack of dawn,” she yawned.

Lee grabbed her sandwich and hurried to the front door. Why did her mother have to be up so early?

“Honey, you need to eat something.” She pushed her uncombed auburn hair off her face. Lee noticed her puffy eyes. “I know you’re angry at me, but you have to at least eat properly.” Her mother sighed, trying to smile. Instead, her bottom lip trembled and her eyes welled with tears.

Turning her back to her mother, Lee bent over to put on her shoes. Slowly, she tied her laces. Why don’t I just walk out? she thought. What would happen if I left too? If I yelled, “I’ll never come back either!” and slammed the door?

Her mother stood in front of the door. Lee noticed her bare feet, the toenails she used to polish pink. Standing as tall as she could and facing her mother, she said, “What do you care?”

“Honey, I do care.” Her mother’s eyes reddened. She held her arms out. “This is really hard for me too, you know.”

Lee backed away. She ran to the kitchen and banged the cupboard doors as she got her cereal. After slurping her orange juice, she purposely spilled part of her cereal on the table before eating a large spoonful. She left, flinging the front door shut behind her.

She slowed as she got closer to Natasha’s house. She was too early. But what did she care about stupid Natasha anyway? She was going to spend the rest of her life being angry. Even at Natasha. Especially at Natasha, who had a nice dad and grandmother, even if they were terribly strict. At least Natasha had a family.

Lee ran past her friend’s house, her pack bouncing against her back, and on to the school playground. The doors of the school were still locked, the grounds empty. It was Friday, the first week of school after the summer holidays. Lee’s first week in grade seven.

Hurling her pack to the side, she sat on one of the swings. Her feet shuffled in the summer dust, then pushed hard off the ground. She started moving, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, her long legs pumping the air as it rushed by her face.

Lee swung for what seemed like hours. Her legs grew tired and her head felt empty. When the first students got off an early bus, Lee jumped down, snatched up her pack and hurried to the far corner of the playground. She sat on the grass, her back against the metal fence, and took out her journal.

I’m never going back. Dad said he’d get me a dog. He promised to help me build a dog house. He said he’d paint my bedroom, let me pick the colours. He said I could even do it myself. He made so many promises!!! What a liar! He lied about meeting in Edmonton, too, I know he did. I hate it when people lie. Now I’ll never see him again.

I won’t go back! I wish I could live with Uncle Brooke. He doesn’t lie, he doesn’t drink, and he’d never walk out on Alex and me.

Lee looked around the playground. Some kids were playing soccer not far away. Twice someone called “hi.” She didn’t say anything. She needed a plan. She had to think.

Just as the bell rang, Natasha ran onto the playground. Lee jumped up and hurried to the far door.

The hall was crowded with kids yelling, locker doors banging and packs swinging back and forth.

Her pack! Lee walked back to the fence to pick up her pack and then sauntered back to the building. She was in no hurry to get to class. Natasha was nowhere in sight.

By the time Lee reached her locker, the hallway was almost empty. Her grade six teacher walked by.

“It’s not like you to be late,” she said.

Lee scowled, but didn’t say anything. After throwing her pack into her locker, she banged the door shut and stomped to the classroom. She flung the door open (now that she was into slamming) and marched in.

Her new teacher, Ms. Candle, looked up from the attendance sheet. “You just made it,” she said, erasing the x.

“So?” Lee sat down. She threw Natasha a dirty look, then focused on her empty desk top. Why was she acting like this? She didn’t usually treat Natasha this way. They’d been best friends since grade three. Lee put her elbows on the desk and rested her head on her fists. She wasn’t the sort of student who purposely caused problems. Sure, she’d gotten into trouble before, been angry or rude. Now she wanted to misbehave, to yell, to smash something. She was furious. She kicked the desk leg.

Ms. Candle asked everyone to take their binders out. “It’s time for our writing assignment,” she said cheerfully.

“Sure,” Lee mumbled. “I’ll write a story: My dad, the drunk, takes all our money for booze…” She scowled. I’m sure Ms. Candle would love a story about that.

Lee kept her elbows on her desk, her head on her fists.

“Lee, where’s your paper and pen?” Ms. Candle walked along the row.

“I can’t think of anything to write.” Lee bent down and found a pencil in the front of her desk. She took a crumpled piece of paper and smoothed it a little, looking up.

Ms. Candle took a pen from the desk and put it in front of her. “Yesterday you wrote a great story about the beach.”

“That was yesterday,” Lee muttered.

“Why not write about that beach again and what you found there. It sounded like an interesting place,” Ms. Candle prompted.

“Why should I? I don’t want to write a stupid story,” she said loudly.

Ms. Candle frowned. “I’ll ignore that this once, young lady,” she said. “Get started.” She turned sharply and walked down the row.

Lee saw Natasha looking at her with surprise, her big, brown eyes wide in her round face. She looked back angrily, then grabbed her pencil. Why write in pen? It would be all wrong anyway. Everything was all wrong. “I HATE my life,” she wrote. She erased it. “My parents are splitting up.” She erased that too. “It’s no use,” she wrote before crumpling the paper into a ball and stuffing it back into her desk.

She sat, her head on her fists, until Ms. Candle came by again. Lee told her to leave her alone.

Ms. Candle asked Lee to go out to the hallway for a talk.

“What’s the matter?” The teacher ran her hands through her short, dark hair. Her olive-brown face wrinkled into a question mark.

“Nothing.” Lee, looking at the floor, slipped her hands into her pockets.

“You don’t usually act like this. Did something happen this morning?”

Lee didn’t answer. She stuffed her hands deeper into her pockets.

“Do you want to talk?” Ms. Candle tried again.

“No!” Lee wanted to kick the wall, but at the same time she felt tired, empty.

She started pulling her hands out of her pockets. She did want to talk. She wanted to ask why these things happened, what she could have done to make things different. But then she remembered Mom’s words, “It’s best not to talk about it too much with others. They may not understand.”

Lee pushed her hands deeper into her pockets and looked at the floor.

“You’d better wait here,” Ms. Candle said. She walked to the office, her shoes squeaking on the linoleum.

“I phoned your mother,” she said when she returned. “I’m sorry to hear your dad left. If you need to talk, I want to listen.” After a short silence she said, “Just do the best you can today.”

Lee didn’t say anything.

Ms. Candle told her to go back to her desk. Lee sat there, doing nothing, thinking nothing until the recess bell rang.

Lee saw Natasha walking over before she’d reached the classroom door.

“I’m sorry. I waited for you as long as I could,” Natasha said. “I was almost late myself. Where were you this morning?”

“Nowhere.” Lee took her lunch from her locker. She ate the jam sandwich in a few hungry bites and kicked the locker shut, hard.

“What happened with Ms. Candle in the hallway?” Natasha asked before biting a piece of her banana.

“Nothing.” Lee walked outside, her hands in her pockets. She didn’t want to talk to anyone.

Natasha followed. “What did I do?”

“Nothing.” Lee sauntered on.

“Bad day?” Natasha asked.

Lee only shrugged her shoulders and started walking away across the playground.

Natasha walked beside her for a bit. “What’s bugging you anyway?” she asked again. When there was no answer she said, “Fine. Don’t talk. I’m going to play soccer.” She headed off in the direction of the field, her strong legs taking big steps.

Lee wished her pockets were bigger; she wanted to push herself deep into them and disappear.

After recess the students worked on the math Ms. Candle had assigned. Lee usually didn’t mind math. Today she hated those stupid numbers. Next they went to music, down the hall. Lee hated singing.

By lunch time she was hungry, but she had nothing left to eat. Natasha chewed her sandwich. Lee tried to smile. It felt funny, as if her skin was too tight, as if a smile no longer fit her face.