Читать книгу A Walk in the Park - Grace Casselman - Страница 8

So what do you think?” Blaine did a little twirl in front of the store’s triple mirror. The jeans outlined her slim shape, then flared a bit at the bottoms.

“They’re really nice,” said Terra, eyeing a dark purple blouse. Maybe she could talk her mom into a shopping trip one day soon. “Are you going to buy them?”

Blaine frowned, sighed. “I can’t really afford them.” She brightened. “But I guess I could always return them.” She darted back into the changeroom to pull off the jeans.

Terra frowned. “What do you mean?” she called through the door.

“Well, I could wear them out with Pete on Friday, and then return them on Monday. As long as I don’t cut off the tags or spill something on them, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Terra felt a small twinge in her stomach—a feeling that got more familiar the more she hung out with Blaine.

“But that’s not really right . . .” she started.

“What do you mean?” asked Blaine, popping back out of the changeroom.

“Well, it’s sort of like stealing, isn’t it?”

Blaine stared at her. “Not really. I mean, the store gets them back, so who’s hurt? It’s kind of like borrowing stuff for a couple of days.”

Terra shook her head, unsure. Her parents definitely wouldn’t approve of “borrowing” stuff from the store like that.

Blaine shrugged, but she hung the jeans back on the rack.

“Whatever. I have enough jeans anyway. Come on, let’s go see where Paula’s at.”

They met up with her near the entrance to the mall. She tossed a chocolate bar to each of the girls.

“Hey, thanks,” said Terra, opening hers and taking a bite. “It was really nice of you to buy that for me.”

Paula snorted. “Yeah, right.”

Blaine laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Terra frowned.

“Oh, nothing,” said Blaine. “Just, if I know Paula, she probably didn’t buy them.”

“What?” said Terra, her mouth so full of chocolate that it suddenly seemed impossible to swallow. She had that uncomfortable feeling in her stomach again.

“Oh, well,” said Blaine, as she bit into her candy. “At least, we’re not going to bring them back.”

“What?” Terra repeated.

Blaine smiled. “I know how you hate borrowing . . .”

Terra felt her stomach turn over. “Uh, I gotta go,” she said, running back into the mall.

“Where ya going?” protested Blaine.

Terra didn’t answer, just ran through the doors, hearing Paula and Blaine’s laughter echoing behind her.

Retching, she made it to the toilet just in time.

Terra knew she was definitely going to be sick. She could feel her stomach moving around in unpleasant ways. She folded her arms on the table, put her head down and moaned pitifully. “This is really horrible.”

Glenn chuckled. “Oh, it’s not so bad. You eat meat, don’t you?”

“I don’t eat rats!” Terra groaned. She lifted her head and snuck a peek at the large rat that Glenn had already pinned to a specimen board for dissection. The strong-smelling preservatives had turned its white fur slightly yellow, and a swollen grey tongue lolled out of its mouth.

“I was told that rats are illegal in Alberta!”

“Yeah, I heard that too. Schools must import dead ones for dissection.”

“This is really horrible,” Terra repeated. For once, she couldn’t even think about how cute Glenn was, even though he was her lab partner. All she could concentrate on was the horrible fat rat. “I’m going to have nightmares. Actually, I’m going to be sick . . .” She put her hand on her stomach and tried to take slow, deep breaths.

“Hey, Terra,” said Glenn, for once without the teasing tone. “Are you okay? You look kind of funny. Here, why don’t I do the cutting? You can do the drawing.”

Terra took a deep breath, her head turned away from the smell of the rat. “Okay.” She watched as Glenn cut through the top layer of skin and flesh and pinned it back to expose the inner organs.

“You get sick easily?”

“Yeah. My mom says I have a nervous stomach.” She stared at the rat and whispered, “Why do they make us do this?”

Glenn tilted his head, considering. “I guess this has more of an impact than just reading it out of books.”

Terra peeked at the rat and grimaced.

“I sometimes think we should have to kill our own cows and chickens. We’d probably be less likely to waste meat, don’t you think?” he said, poking at the rat with his scalpel.

“Will you please stop talking about food?” Terra hissed.

Glenn grinned. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get philosophical.”

“No, no. Philosophy’s okay. It’s just food I don’t want to hear about.”

He laughed. “Okay, it’s a deal.”

Across the table, Kaitlin, holding a rat by its pins, was making it dance. “Heya, Glenn,” she hissed, pressing her tongue against her teeth. “Check this out.” The rat, with its tongue hanging out of its mouth, seemed to dance an enthusiastic jig. But one of the pins slipped out of Kaitlin’s grasp, and the rat went flying, landing in the lap of a redheaded boy named Chuck. He went very pale.

“Hey, Chuck,” said Glenn, pushing his board across the table. “Did you know people eat these in some countries?”

In an instant, Chuck’s colour turned from white to green. He bolted up and made it to the garbage can just in time. The class burst out in a mixture of gasps, groans and laughter.

Terra felt her own stomach roll. She covered her mouth, willing her breakfast to stay down.

“Hey, Terra. I think you’re really pretty,” whispered Glenn.

“What?” Terra stared at him, startled.

“You looked like you needed a distraction.”

“Oh.” She flushed, confused.

“Ah, man,” said Glenn. “Sorry about that, Chuck.”

Chuck waved his hand at Glenn, his head still stuck in the garbage.

Terra searched for something normal to say. “Um . . . are there really rat police in Alberta?”

“The Rat Patrol!” exclaimed Kaitlin. “Yeah. I did a project on it once. According to the Alberta government, Alberta’s rat control efforts have saved one billion dollars over fifty years.”

“Huh,” said Terra. “I used to have a friend that had pet rats.”

“In Ottawa?”

“Yeah.”

“Aw,” Kaitlin sighed, peering at her yellowish rat with the grey tongue. “It’s too bad they’re illegal—they’re kind of cute.”

Dear Diary

I remember visiting my grandparents on their farm near Ottawa. A rat was outside, off the back kitchen and Grandpa said that was weird behaviour and maybe it was rabid. So my Grandpa and bigger boy cousins went outside and hit it with sticks.

I wasn’t allowed to go out. They said I was too small.

But I watched out the window. The rat lay still and bloody on the step for a long time before my cousins took it away.

It gave me a weird feeling.

Glenn told me today he thinks I’m pretty, while we were dissecting rats. Is that a bad sign? Could my first real romance be starting over a dead rat?

I hung out with Blaine and Paula today. They seem to know a lot of people, so that’s kind of fun.

Fred is banging in the hallway, building some sort of cupboard, I think. How long are these renovations going to take?

Am I pretty? Was Glenn just trying to stop me from throwing up on him?