My Messed-Up Life Page 8

  I could hardly wait. From a strictly objective perspective, of course.

  •••

  Phoebe, aka Nancy, had been gone for about ten minutes. Jean-Paul and I sat on the cold pavement across the street, our knees so close they were almost touching. I wracked my brain to think of something to say. ‘Do you like Vancouver?’

  Yup. That was the best I could come up with.

  ‘It’s OK. Believe it or not, I miss Winnipeg winters. I know it’s a lot warmer here, but the rain... I always feel damp and cold. And the days are so short and dark... I mean, the cold freezes your nose hairs in Winnipeg, but at least you see the sun once in a while.’

  ‘Do you miss your dad?’

  ‘All the time. How about you?’

  I shrugged. ‘He’s been gone for over two years.’

  ‘That doesn’t answer the question.’

  ‘I hate him.’

  ‘Still doesn’t answer the question.’

  I looked down at my mittens. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I miss him.’

  ‘What do you miss about him?’

  I thought about that for a moment. ‘He used to watch Saturday morning cartoons with me and Rosie. He’d bring us big bowls of cereal to eat in front of the TV, and he’d sing along with all the theme songs from Arthur, The Magic School Bus, Caillou...’

  ‘I loved Caillou.’

  ‘And he taught me how to ride my bike. He’d take me for long bike rides sometimes, just the two of us. He gave great back rubs and was really good at fixing things. And he made up these stories, just for me, at bedtime...’

  My voice caught in my throat. I’d tried not to think about those stories for a long time. They were adventure tales, and Dad had made them up out of thin air. They’d always star me and my imaginary friend, Pete. The stories always started the same: Pete and I would go out to play in the backyard, and very quickly we’d get into some kind of mischief. Like we’d explore a hollow tree and fall down a hole that would take us to a magical kingdom. Or we’d jump in a puddle that suddenly turned into an ocean, and we’d find ourselves aboard a pirate ship. They were thrilling, always just a little bit scary, but of course everything always turned out OK, and each story would end with Pete and me walking through the back door just in time for milk and cookies.

  By the time Dad left, he hardly ever told a Pete and Violet story – I was almost ten, after all. But every once in a while, when I’d had a particularly crappy day, he’d perch on the edge of my bed and just start talking. Sometimes I would groan and tell him I was too old for storytelling, but he’d just smile and continue, and I’d shut up and listen to his voice and feel safe.

  I got over myself and turned to Jean-Paul. ‘What about you? What do you miss about your dad?’

  ‘My dad’s a great cook. I miss his tourtière and his roasts. I miss playing hockey with him on the ice rink near our house. I even miss hearing him sing Céline Dion songs at the top of his lungs in the shower.’

  ‘Ugh,’ I said, laughing. ‘Why did they get divorced?’

  ‘They fought all the time. I don’t think they liked each other very much.’

  ‘My parents never fought. They were like best friends. They were always hugging and kissing in front of us... then, boom, Dad tells us he’s in love with another woman. It makes you start thinking. Was everything a lie? Like, did he actually hate Caillou?’

  ‘Nobody could hate Caillou.’

  And suddenly Jean-Paul grabbed my hand and squeezed it, just for a fraction of a second, before he let go. It happened so fast, I wasn’t completely sure it had happened.

  ‘Hey. I’m back.’ It was Phoebe. She crouched down beside us.

  ‘Anything interesting?’

  ‘Zip. Sorry, Violet.’

  I turned to Jean-Paul. ‘You don’t have to go in.’

  Jean-Paul shrugged. ‘I want to.’ He jumped up and made his way to the corner. When the light changed, he walked across the street and disappeared into Skip to My Loo.

  ‘So? How did things go?’ Phoebe asked as she pulled a cheese sandwich out of my backpack.

  ‘Fine,’ I said, trying to sound cool.

  ‘Fine?’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘Then why are you as red as a beet?’

  I sighed. I couldn’t hide anything from Phoebe. ‘I think he momentarily held my hand,’ I told her.

  ‘Oh. My. God!!’ Then she shrieked so loud, I had to cover my ears. ‘I knew it! I knew he liked you, and I know you like him.’

  I couldn’t deny it. Phoebe was right. I did like him. From a strictly objective perspective, of course.

  •••

  When Jean-Paul came back, he was carrying a bar of lavender soap in a small bag.

  ‘Did you learn anything?’

  ‘Aside from the fact that Dudley thinks this soap will have my mom in a lather? Nothing. Sorry.’

  Our mission completed, the three of us walked slowly up Main Street together. We reached Jean-Paul’s street first.

  ‘That was fun,’ he said. ‘If you do any more stakeouts, let me know.’

  He’d just started walking away when I saw them, standing on the other side of the street.

  Ashley and Lauren. Thing One and Thing Two. They were staring at us in disbelief.

  It was a perfect ending to a perfect day.

  12

  That night, after I’d made fish fingers and frozen peas and toast for Rosie and me because Mom was out with Dudley, and after I’d forced Rosie to eat all her peas because she needed her vegetables, and after I’d washed the dishes and read to Rosie until she’d fallen into a deep sleep, I decided to check my Facebook account before Glamour Girl started at nine.

  I logged in with my password, badattitude1.

  I could hardly believe it. I had 3 friend requests.

  The first was Karen’s old request. I sighed heavily. Then I pressed CONFIRM.

  The second request was from Claudia. I pressed CONFIRM.

  The third request was from Ashley Anderson.

  Yes, that Ashley Anderson.

  I stared at her profile photo, feeling confused, suspicious, and oddly flattered all at once. Why would Thing One want to friend me?

  I moved the arrow to IGNORE.

  Then I thought, Maybe, when she saw Phoebe and me with Jean-Paul, she realised we aren’t total bottom-feeders after all. Maybe this is her way of saying so.

  I moved the arrow to CONFIRM.

  Then I thought, This is the girl who nicknamed you Pancake! The girl who loves to embarrass you in front of the entire class!

  I moved the arrow to IGNORE again.

  Then I thought, But I’ve already confirmed Claudia as a friend. If I ignore Ashley, she’ll find out and might make my life even more miserable.

  I let out a groan. Who knew Facebook could be so complicated?

  Suddenly Rosie cried from upstairs, ‘Violet? I forgot to put on my pull-ups and I peed!’

  ‘Coming!’

  I stood up, looking one last time at Ashley’s friend request.

  Just before I dashed upstairs to change Rosie’s sheets, I pressed CONFIRM.

  13

  ‘Did Ashley friend you last night on Facebook?’ I asked Phoebe, after we’d dropped off Rosie at kindergarten.

  ‘No. As if.’

  ‘She friended me.’

  Phoebe raised her eyebrows. ‘Tell me you hit IGNORE.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Phoebe’s eyes narrowed. ‘You know I can check when I get home. As your Facebook friend, I have access to your friend list.’

  I sighed. ‘Fine. I hit CONFIRM.’

  Phoebe stopped walking. ‘You friended her? After the way she’s treated us?’

  I shrugged. ‘I sort of took it as a good sign, you know?’

  ‘Violet
. This is the girl who nicknamed you Pancake. Who called me Piggy—’

  ‘Hey, guys, check it out.’

  Claudia was beckoning to us from the landing halfway up the stairs, where she was putting up posters. Relieved to have a subject change, I hurried to join her.

  SADIE HAWKINS DANCE, the poster read in capital letters. WEDNESDAY, MARCH 13, 7:00 P.M.

  ‘What’s a Sadie Hawkins Dance?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s where the girls have to ask the boys,’ she told us, rolling her eyes. ‘It wasn’t my idea. Paula Michalowski came up with it.’ Claudia was on the Social Committee, so she was very in-the-know.

  ‘Who was Sadie Hawkins?’ asked Phoebe.

  Claudia shrugged. ‘Some girl who couldn’t get a date the normal way, I guess. Anyway, you guys should come. I’m going to invite Jonah.’

  ‘I suppose I could invite Andrew,’ Phoebe said as we climbed the stairs. Andrew was the guy who’d done the presentation on Scottish clans. Phoebe had known him since they were both in diapers because they’d gone to the same daycare. ‘And you,’ she continued, ‘could invite Jean-Paul.’

  ‘No,’ I replied firmly, ‘I couldn’t.’

  Before Phoebe could argue with me about what she liked to call ‘your cynical and completely unrealistic pact with yourself,’ Ashley and Lauren materialised in front of us like spectres, blocking our path.

  ‘Oh, hey, Violet,’ said Ashley. ‘Phyllis.’

  ‘Phoebe,’ Phoebe answered hotly. ‘We’ve only been going to the same school since kindergarten.’

  Ashley ignored her and turned her attention to me. ‘You have a good day off yesterday?’

  ‘Great.’

  ‘Saw you with Jean-Paul,’ she said. ‘You guys just happen to run into each other, or what?’

  ‘Nope,’ Phoebe said smugly. ‘We hung out with him. For hours. Right, Violet?’

  ‘Right.’

  Ashley gave us a thin smile. ‘He’s sooo nice, don’t you think?’

  Phoebe and I glanced at each other, our senses on high alert. We could both smell a trap.

  ‘Yeah,’ I replied warily.

  ‘That’s one of his best qualities. He’s nice to everyone, even if he has no interest in them whatsoever.’

  ‘Oh,’ replied Phoebe. ‘You mean he’s been nice to you, too?’

  I tried to swallow a laugh, and it came out as a snort instead.

  ‘Anyways—’ Ashley started.

  ‘Anyway,’ I said.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘It’s anyway. Anyways isn’t really a word.’ Yup. It was like my own personalised form of Tourette’s Syndrome.

  ‘You are such a loser, Pancake,’ she said, using my nickname to my face for the first time ever. ‘And your hair sucks.’

  Thing One and Thing Two swept past us to their lockers. I touched my hair self-consciously; I’d tried the gel thing again and thought it looked pretty good this time, now that my hair had been trimmed.

  At least one thing was settled: Ashley and I might be Facebook friends, but we still weren’t friends in real life.

  •••

  The rest of the day was like a Lemony Snicket novel, a series of unfortunate events. First, Jean-Paul wasn’t at school. Then, when we picked up Rosie at the daycare in the basement, she was sitting in the corner again. Alison, the daycare lady, approached me.

  ‘Violet, could you ask your mother to call me, please?’

  I watched as Phoebe made a beeline over to Rosie and scooped her up. ‘Why?’

  ‘She bit Isabelle again.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘They won’t tell us. They were playing with the doll-house. We heard Isabelle scream, and Rosie’s teeth were clamped down on her arm.’

  ‘Isabelle must have said something to upset her,’ I said.

  ‘Whatever Isabelle said,’ Alison replied slowly, like I was stupid, ‘biting is unacceptable.’

  On the way home, we got the story out of Rosie. ‘We were playing house, and Isabelle said I couldn’t have a daddy doll because I don’t have a daddy at home, and I said we do have a daddy, he just doesn’t live with us, and she said that meant we don’t really have a daddy. So I bit her.’

  ‘You know what, Rosie?’ I said. ‘I would’ve bit her, too.’

  Then, when we stopped in at Mom’s work, we found her comforting Amanda, who was in tears.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ we asked in unison.

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ Amanda said, even though that was obviously a lie. ‘Cosmo and I are just...’

  My heart did a flip. I knew it was ridiculous, but even a cynic like me had to hold on to a small thread of hope that True Love might exist for a lucky few, and Amanda and Cosmo were the flame that kept my hope alive.

  ‘Please tell me you didn’t break up,’ I said, my voice a bit wobbly.

  ‘No, no... but he’s been acting strange lately. He cancelled a date last night with the lousiest explanation... and when we do get together, it’s like there’s something he wants to tell me, but he can’t bring himself to say it. Like he’s got some big secret.’

  Phoebe and I looked at each other. Amanda must have been a mind reader because she said, ‘And don’t you girls even think of spying on him. I mean it!’

  Then she started crying again so Mom shooed us away, saying she’d see us at home later.

  Rosie and I said goodbye to Phoebe at her house because she had her French horn lesson. When we got to our place, Mr Bright was on his front porch. ‘Tell your mother to get that muffler of hers fixed, or I’ll have to call the authorities!’ he shouted. The muffler on the Rust Bucket had broken over the weekend and made a loud clanking sound whenever Mom drove it.

  ‘I’ll tell her, Mr Bright,’ I said as I hurried Rosie into our house and locked the door.

  The phone was ringing. I made a run for it, not bothering to take off my shoes. ‘Hello?’ I said, grabbing it just before it went to voice mail.

  ‘Violet, hi.’ A female voice. Not my mom’s voice.

  ‘Hi. Who’s this?’

  ‘It’s Jennica.’

  My stomach lurched. Wife Number Two never phoned. She was The Other Woman. Why on earth would she be calling? Unless—

  ‘Is Dad OK? Has something happened to him?’ Rosie was standing beside me, and I instinctively grabbed her hand.

  ‘No, no, your dad is fine,’ she said. ‘Terrific, in fact. He’s just been hired to direct this big TV pilot for a new show called Out There. It’s like a cross between Lost and Touched by an Angel. He’ll be shooting on the Tantamount lot.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Cool.’ I let go of Rosie’s hand, and she dashed upstairs.

  There was a really long pause after that. I was tempted to run and get the Magic 8 Ball and let it do the talking, but I couldn’t put Jennica through that. The truth was, I still didn’t know her all that well. It’s much easier to be cruel to someone you know.

  ‘Lola and Lucy ask after you and Rosie a lot,’ Jennica finally said.

  ‘Do they?’ I answered, although inside I was thinking liar.

  ‘They know you’re supposed to come down for March Break.’

  ‘I wanna go, I wanna go!’ Rosie’s voice suddenly came on the line. The little sneak was listening in on the phone in Mom’s bedroom.

  ‘Rosie, is that you?’ Jennica asked.

  ‘Hi, Jenny. How’s Lola and Lucy?’

  ‘They’re great. Talking up a blue streak. And they miss their older sisters a lot.’

  ‘See, I told you they missed us, Violet,’ Rosie said smugly.

  ‘Get off the phone, Rosie.’

  ‘No! Do you really want us to come, Jenny?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Even after what Violet did?’

  ‘Well, that’s partly why I’m calling. We
still very much want you girls to visit us. But, Violet, I need two things from you first: I need you to promise you will never do something like that to your sisters again, and I need you to apologise.’

  I was quiet for a long time. Rosie was not. ‘Please, Violet, please please please say you’re sorry. Mom won’t let me fly on the plane without you.’

  ‘Rosie. Get. Off. The. Phone.’ She must have heard the tone in my voice because I heard a click.

  ‘Why are you calling, and not Dad?’ I asked.

  ‘Because Ian says you won’t talk to him when he calls. I told him I’d give it a try.’

  There was another long pause.

  ‘So. What do you say, Violet?’

  I closed my eyes. I took a deep breath. Then, very quietly, I hung up.

  I climbed the stairs to our room. Rosie was on the floor, playing with her Playmobil grocery set.

  ‘Are we going? Are we going for March Break?’

  I picked the Magic 8 Ball up from the shelf and gave it a good shake. ‘Outlook not so good.’

  •••

  ‘Uh-huh. Yes... yes, I think we can both agree that it’s not OK to bite. But it’s also not OK to dump all the blame on Rosie every single time there’s an incident with this girl...’ My mom was heating up a jar of spaghetti sauce on the stove while she spoke on the phone. I could tell she was agitated because she was stirring really hard. Sauce kept spraying out of the pot and landing on the stove top and on her shirt. Rosie and I busied ourselves setting the table while we listened in.

  ‘Clearly this girl is provoking her. You need to talk to her, too... Well, according to Rosie, she told her that her dad didn’t count because he doesn’t live with us. For heaven’s sake, half the kids at the daycare must have divorced or single parents, this isn’t the 1950s...’ Mom picked up the pot of noodles from the stove, turned off the heat, and drained it in the colander that Rosie liked to wear on her head.

  ‘OK. Thank you. And if you want me to come in for a meeting with the other girl’s parents, I’m happy to do it... bye.’ She hit the off button on the phone. I could tell she was angry by the way she pursed her lips.

  ‘Are you mad at me, Mommy?’ Rosie asked as Mom dished spaghetti and sauce onto our plates.