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  ‘I’m still ahead of all the chumps you never knew. And that’s the truth.’

  The song ended. A few of the sidewalk gawkers clapped, and so did a handful of the women from Amanda’s Stitch and Bitch group.

  ‘What do you want?’ Amanda asked, and I was bummed out because her voice carried the same edge of steel that it had on the last night we’d seen her.

  ‘I just want to talk,’ said Cosmo.

  She pursed her lips. Her Stitch and Bitch pals waited with bated breath. One of them nudged her encouragingly.

  ‘Fine,’ she said, at last. ‘Come on up.’

  When we got to her door, the Stitch and Bitch ladies were just leaving. A few of them smiled at Cosmo on their way out, but more of them gave him dirty looks. I guessed they’d bitched about him more than once while they’d stitched.

  We stepped inside. Amanda’s apartment was tiny, but neat as a pin and full of really interesting stuff, like old movie posters and a collection of I Love Lucy plates that hung on the walls. She also had shelves full of female superhero action figures, like Wonder Woman and Batgirl.

  ‘Nice apartment. Is that a wall bed?’ I asked, pointing at a large slab of wood with a handle, in the middle of one wall.

  ‘It is indeed,’ she said. Then she ruffled my hair. ‘It’s good to see you, kiddo.’

  But when she turned to Cosmo, the smile disappeared and she crossed her arms over her chest. ‘You want to talk? Talk,’ she said.

  Cosmo glanced at me. ‘You think you can give us some privacy, Ambrose?’

  There was nowhere to go but the balcony or the bathroom, so I chose the balcony. I left the doors open a crack so I could hear everything.

  ‘Amanda, you don’t know how sorry I am,’ Cosmo was saying. ‘I just wish you’d give me a second chance.’

  ‘I’m going to tell you a story,’ Amanda said. ‘My last relationship, I was with the guy for three years. We were engaged, till I found out completely by accident that he’d been cheating on me, practically from the very beginning, with a string of different women. He told me they didn’t count. I kicked him out that night and I haven’t spoken to him since. So, as you can see, I’m not big on second chances.’

  ‘But I’m not like that—’

  ‘You were the first man I liked enough to date since him. And I had my doubts about you, too. But then, you were a Big Brother, and you seemed so genuine … You made me feel like a fool again, Cosmo. I refuse to be treated like a fool.’

  ‘I never thought of you as a fool, Amanda. I’m the fool. I thought, if I told you the truth, you wouldn’t have even considered going out with me.’

  ‘You’re probably right.’

  ‘I swear it won’t happen again.’

  ‘But how do I know that?’

  ‘You think I’d humiliate myself like that out there if I wasn’t serious?’

  I heard Amanda giggle, which was a good sign.

  ‘I like you, Amanda. Very much.’

  ‘And I like you, too.’

  I peeked inside and saw Cosmo sit beside Amanda on her cherry red love seat. He took her hand. My heart felt lighter than it had in weeks.

  ‘Tell you what,’ she said. ‘Start coming to Scrabble Club again, and we’ll try to get reacquainted. But just as friends for now.’

  ‘Sounds fair.’

  ‘And, Ambrose, since I know you’re listening, you can come inside now.’

  I thought about pretending I hadn’t heard that, but there didn’t seem to be much point, so in I came.

  ‘I have something for you,’ said Amanda.

  ‘What?’

  She dug around for a piece of paper on a desk near the front door. ‘Everyone missed you at the club. Even Joan.’

  ‘I missed you guys, too.’

  ‘But if you want to come back, you need to get your mom to sign this.’ She found the piece of paper and handed it to me.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘A consent form.’

  My heart sank. ‘What if she doesn’t sign it?’

  ‘Then you can’t be in the club.’

  ‘You mean, you’d kick me out?’

  ‘Put yourself in my shoes. I could get into a lot of trouble.’

  ‘Please don’t give me the boot.’

  ‘I won’t. Not as long as your mom signs this.’

  ‘It’s not that simple,’ I said.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Cosmo, from the love seat. ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’

  The worst that could happen was that my mom would flip out a) that I’d been lying to her and b) that I’d been hanging out with an ex-con after promising I wouldn’t. And that because of a and b, she’d do what she did in Edmonton when she got tired of her job, and in Regina when she got tired of Nana Ruth, and in Kelowna when she got fired from her job because she got drunk at a staff party and made wisecracks about the dean when he was standing right behind her, and in Calgary when my dad died and her work at the university went down the toilet because she was grieving, and they never did offer her a full-time position but instead let her go after two years: She’d pack us up and move us to a whole new city and expect us both to start all over again.

  That was the worst that could happen.

  But all I said to Cosmo and Amanda was, ‘Fine. I’ll give it a try.’

  20

  VCNAIODAE

  dance, oven, voice, cove, naïve, cave, coin, invade

  AVOIDANCE

  BUT HOW’S A guy supposed to begin in a situation like this? There’s not just one lie, there’s multiple lies, layered on top of each other like the fancy cakes that they sell at the Bon Ton on Broadway that Mom will never buy, partly because she’s worried they might have peanuts in them and partly because she says they’re empty calories (whatever that means).

  I tried to work out the conversation ahead of time in my mind. Mom, there’s something I have to tell you. I’ve been going to the West Side Scrabble Club for a couple of months now. Cosmo drives me. You know, Cosmo, the ex-druggie? We’ve become good friends. I’ve even gone out with him and his new friend, Amanda. Last week we went rock climbing, which really isn’t that dangerous. And you know that night you saw him in his car with that girl? Well, I was in the car too. We were just trying to beat you home, ha-ha-ha.

  Not in a million years was I going to say that.

  On Sunday night, Mom and I played Scrabble and listened to some of her CDs. I crushed her. The final score was 302 to 125. She challenged about six different words that I played, and each one was in the Official Scrabble Dictionary (we used the regular Scrabble dictionary for our games, since Mom didn’t even know I had the Official Scrabble Tournament and Club Word List).

  She shook her head when we were done. ‘I didn’t think it was possible, but you’ve gotten even better. In fact, you’re not that much fun to play with anymore.’ She smiled as she said this, but I could tell that part of her meant it. And, inside, a part of me was pleased, because I remembered what Mohammed had told me on the first night I’d gone to the club, about his roommates refusing to play with him after a while. Maybe this meant I wasn’t just a kitchen player anymore.

  And suddenly I knew how I could broach the subject of the Scrabble Club. I simply needed to apply Scrabble strategies. Scrabble wasn’t just about having a good vocabulary; it was also about which letters you held on to and which you dumped.

  More simply, I didn’t have to tell my mom the entire truth. I could just use the parts I wanted to use and hold on to the rest.

  ‘I do love Scrabble,’ I said, as she put the board away and poured herself another glass of wine.

  ‘I know you do.’

  ‘It’s something I’m good at,’ I continued, ‘something I take pride in.’ I knew this was a good thing to say. Mom was always wanting me to find something in my life that I could take pride in, and so far, in my twelve and three-quarter years, there’d been next to nothing, unless you counted the year I got a PARTICIPANT
ribbon at the end of our school sports day in Regina.

  ‘Where is this leading?’ she asked.

  ‘When we were on Broadway the other day,’ I continued, ‘I saw a notice on a hydro pole for the West Side Scrabble Club.’ This was not a lie, even if it had happened months ago. ‘I’d really like to join.’

  ‘A Scrabble club? That sounds like fun.’

  ‘So, can I?’

  ‘When is it?’ She was dancing to the music – this one a CD by another Canadian guy named Luke Doucet – as she drank her wine, and, for a moment, I felt I was seeing her the way my dad must have seen her all those years ago, carefree and happy and maybe even fun.

  ‘Wednesday nights at 7:00 P.M., at the West Side United Church.’

  ‘But that’s up by the university.’

  ‘I can take the bus.’

  ‘By yourself?’

  ‘Mom, I’m twelve and three-quarters. Thirteen in July.’

  She shook her head. ‘Sorry, Ambrose, there’s no way I’m letting you take the bus by yourself, in the dark—’

  ‘It’s barely dark at seven, now that spring’s here,’ I said.

  ‘But what about later, when the club gets out?’

  I almost suggested that she could pick me up on her way home, but then I remembered I couldn’t let her find out that Cosmo was in the club, too.

  ‘I’m sure someone would give me a lift.’

  She stopped dancing and turned off the music. ‘Ambrose, do I look like I’m nuts? Not in a million years would I let you get into a car with a perfect stranger.’

  ‘But they wouldn’t be strangers after a couple of weeks.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but the answer is no.’

  I was desperate now. ‘What if I find someone else to drive me? Someone you know and trust?’

  ‘And who would that be?’

  ‘The Economopouloses? Maybe one of them would drive me.’

  ‘Mrs Economopoulos doesn’t even have her license. And have you seen Mr Economopoulos drive? It’s a miracle the man hasn’t killed himself, or someone else.’

  ‘Then Cosmo.’ That just came flying out.

  She gave me the stink-eye. ‘I truly am sorry, Ambrose. If I could go with you, if it was on the weekends, I’d take you in a heartbeat. But I would be a terrible mother if I agreed to this.’

  ‘Mom, please—’

  ‘This discussion is over.’ She grabbed her glass of wine and walked into her bedroom and closed the door.

  I stood thinking for a minute, then I pushed through the beads into my own bedroom and took the consent form out of my desk. I found a pen. Then, on the line after PARENT OR GUARDIAN SIGNATURE, I wrote in my best handwriting: Irene Bukowski.

  Cosmo and I returned to the Scrabble Club that Wednesday. He didn’t ask about my mom on the drive up, and I was grateful. We talked mostly about the weather, which I’ve noticed Vancouverites like to do.

  But for the first time since we started going to the Scrabble Club, I felt kind of guilty. At least before, I’d had the excuse that Mom had never said I couldn’t go because I’d never told her. Now I knew exactly where she stood, and I was one hundred per cent going against her wishes.

  My feelings were quickly forgotten, though, as soon as we stepped into the Sunday school room.

  ‘Welcome back,’ said Mohammed, and he handed me a word list he’d printed out especially for me.

  ‘We thought we’d lost you,’ said a woman named Beth.

  It was a nice feeling to know we’d been missed, even if we hadn’t been gone that long. Even Joan and I were getting along better, ever since I’d told her about my peanut allergy and she’d told me about her lactose intolerance.

  ‘How are you feeling tonight, Joan?’ I asked, as we set up the boards and counted tiles.

  ‘Terrible. I had a Greek salad at lunch and they swore up and down that the feta was made from goat’s milk, but the way my tummy’s been feeling, I just know it was cow’s. I’ve been burbly and gaseous for hours.’

  And she proved it by letting off a long fart, so I was relieved when I found out that we had six beginners present and I wouldn’t be playing Joan.

  Once we’d all sat down in our little kid chairs, Amanda made the announcements. ‘If anyone has seen Susan’s timer, please let her know. She hasn’t been able to find it since last week. And Larry went down to the tournament in Portland and improved his rating by one hundred points, winning ten out of fourteen games. His rating is now 1767 – congratulations, Larry!’ Everyone applauded and Larry, in his stained sweatpants, took a bow. ‘And of course our most exciting news is that our annual West Side Scrabble Club tournament is only three weeks away. It’s on Saturday, May fourteenth. We’ll be playing eight games. Players need to be there by eight-thirty in the morning and we hope to wrap up by six. I’ve received over seventy-five entry forms already. We have people coming from as far as Boston, Massachusetts, and Sacramento, California. If you haven’t entered yet but would still like to, time’s running out. We need your applications and your cheques in by this Saturday, at the latest.’

  Then it was time to play. In spite of all my mixed feelings about Mom, I got sucked right into it again. For the first time, I won all three of my games. Even Cosmo managed to win two out of three.

  So we were both floating a bit when Amanda approached us afterward. ‘Did you tell your mom about the club?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, which, technically speaking, wasn’t a lie.

  ‘And?’

  ‘And, it’s fine.’ Technically speaking, that was a lie.

  ‘Did you bring the consent form?’

  I nodded and handed it to her. She looked at it and so did Cosmo and, suddenly, I felt kind of sweaty in my armpits.

  But all she said was ‘Well, that’s fantastic. Especially since I think you should enter the tournament.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘You’re ready, Ambrose. Cosmo, I think you should enter, too. You’re both getting better. Until you play in a tournament, you can’t get a ranking. If you want to get more serious about your playing, this is your next step. And it’s also a heck of a lot of fun.’ She handed us both application forms, but when Cosmo tried to give her a quick kiss good night on the lips, she turned her face so it landed on her cheek instead.

  On the drive home, Cosmo said, ‘You forged her signature, didn’t you?’

  I didn’t say anything.

  ‘Ambrose.’

  ‘I’m not telling you anything,’ I blurted. ‘You’ve promised to be Mr Honesty, haven’t you? You’ll feel all morally obligated to tell Amanda.’

  ‘I wouldn’t do that.’

  I looked out the window, suddenly wishing I was home and that my mom was there and that we could just curl up on the couch and watch an old movie, like we used to once in a while before she’d had to switch to teaching nights.

  ‘I tried to tell her. But there were so many parts I couldn’t say.’

  ‘Like that you and I go together.’

  I didn’t answer.

  ‘She doesn’t like me.’

  ‘No, she doesn’t,’ I said. ‘But all she knows about you is that you’re an ex-con and a drug addict. You can’t totally blame her.’

  ‘But if she got to know me …’

  ‘It wouldn’t matter. She wouldn’t trust you: are you just being nice because you’re a paedophile and you’re going to kidnap me; are you just being nice because you want me to start selling drugs for you; are you just being nice so I’ll feel too guilty to tell when you molest me?’

  ‘Holy sh—’

  ‘It’s how her mind works. I told her I could take the bus to the Scrabble Club, but all she thinks about is a stranger getting off the bus and following me. Or she imagines a creepy guy befriending me, then killing me. Or she pictures me getting hit by a car when I cross a busy street without her.’

  ‘Those are some very dark thoughts.’

  ‘I know. But maybe we’d have them, too, if we lost someone th
e way she lost my dad. Everything’s normal in the morning – he’s there patting her stomach and kissing her good-bye – and then boom. He’s dead because of a time bomb in his brain.’

  We were both pretty quiet after that. When we got out of the car at home, Cosmo held up the entry forms Amanda had given us. ‘You gonna enter?’

  I shook my head. ‘I’d like to. But it’s a Saturday. My mom doesn’t work. Besides, it costs forty bucks.’

  ‘Well, if you change your mind, I can spot you the entrance fee. It looks like I’m going to pick up a few more shifts at the construction sight.’

  ‘That’s good news.’ Then, because I had to ask, ‘Have you tried to buy drugs again?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, I haven’t. Have you ditched your purple pants yet?’

  ‘Not gonna happen,’ I replied.

  We said good night. Cosmo started up the front steps while I headed around the side of the house. Suddenly I heard him swear loudly, one of the ten uses of the ‘f’ word in the Official Scrabble Tournament and Club Word List.

  I ran up to the porch. He stood, looking through the living room window. Right through the living room window. Because the glass, aside from a few shards, was no longer there.

  Someone had thrown a rock right through it.

  21

  LCMEAIR

  cream, clear, real, mice, éclair, lime, mile, meal, realm

  MIRACLE

  COSMO DIDN’T WANT me to come in with him, but he also didn’t want me to call the cops, so I stood outside, feeling shivery and numb and scared.

  After a few minutes, he told me it was OK to come in.

  ‘Nothing seems to be missing,’ he said.

  ‘It was a message, wasn’t it?’ I told him. ‘You owe me.’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘It was kids. A random prank.’

  ‘But—’