Running through Sprinklers Read online

  In the ballroom downstairs:

  I eat salmon for dinner and drink ice water out of a wineglass and have the fluffiest chocolate cake for dessert and then everyone gets up. All of Josh’s family forms a circle and holds hands and we go around and around and around and it’s so much fun, and then Jen grabs me because she is so crazy and says she feels like a Slurpee, so we leave and run across the street to the gas station with the tap tap tap of our dress shoes and the twinkle twinkle twinkle of the streetlights, and we buy cherry Slurpees not caring that one of the parents will find out that we were out at night alone because we quickly go back to the hotel and nobody knows that we’ve been gone because we’ve downed our Slurpees so fast and have brain freeze, but then we dance some more and it’s better. We do this until midnight.

  My dad picks me and Jen up.

  In the back of the minivan:

  We have our feet up, they hurt so much. And I think, This was the best night of my life.

  50

  IT’S SCARLETT DAVIES’S birthday. I’m kind of surprised she invited me. We’re not really friends, but I think she invited most of the grade seven girls. Jen wasn’t invited. Or Nadine. People have already forgotten about her being at our school, it seems.

  We’re at the Stardust roller rink. Scarlett’s mom sits in the corner, with a melting ice cream cake on the table, and smokes.

  We buy glow-in-the-dark sticks on shoestrings and put them around our necks. There is a disco ball. It makes speckles of light dance all over the place.

  On the roller rink:

  We all skate around in a circle, me, Scarlett, Heather, but they are really slow so I go ahead a bit. Some guy is skating backward and a few people skate holding hands, but no, not me—I’m skating ALONE! As fast as I can! And I cross my legs one over the other and let my hair flap against the wind and I feel so free and I can’t believe it, I’m not thinking of anything, not of Nadine, or Daniel going missing, I’m just skating faster and faster and I pass everyone over and over and I feel FREE from EVERYONE and EVERYTHING and this LIFE!

  Scarlett catches up with me and suddenly it’s the two of us together. “You’re an awesome skater! Super fast.”

  Afterward, we pull off our skates and go outside and I’m so shocked by the light, kind of like when you come out of the theater after an afternoon show, it seems as though it should be dark, but it’s not. “Strange, isn’t it?” Scarlett says as though she read my thoughts. Then I realize I forgot to tell Dad when to pick me up. “Need a ride home? We go right by your house anyway,” she says.

  51

  I’M SUPPOSED TO be working on a project for the science fair with Jen. It’s about the effects of oil spills on the environment and wildlife and the best ways to contain the damage. And though the images of birds covered in grease not being able to breathe are super sad and made me want to work on the project to make a difference, I decide to go downtown on the SkyTrain with Scarlett to go shopping.

  I tell Mom that we are going with her mom, but we’re not. We’re going alone. I’m a little scared.

  We get on the train and sit next to each other on the red and blue plastic seats and ride all the way into downtown, get out at Granville Street station, and go up the escalators that are so steep you feel like you are going to fall down.

  We walk along Robson Street, past the art gallery, and through a coffee shop window I see Ms. Lee with a woman. Ms. Lee is smiling and looking down and turning her coffee cup counterclockwise. Some boys sitting outside up against the shop window look at us and one says, “Nice legs! Yum-yum!” Ms. Lee looks up, surprised to see us in the window, and I grab Scarlett and we run away, get on the train, and go straight home, totally freaked. We don’t really talk about how it wasn’t quite as fun as we thought it would be to go downtown alone, and though I don’t tell her, I never want to do it again.

  That day, they find Daniel Monroe’s dad’s body somewhere in a shallow grave near Lake Ontario. The news says that the body decomposed for a while, possibly over a year. “It means he didn’t take him,” James says. “I knew it! I knew it!”

  “But it means that someone murdered his dad at some point,” I said. James is suddenly quiet.

  The phone rings. I already know who it is.

  “So I guess it’s official,” Jen says. “Some stranger took him.”

  “Yes, I guess so.”

  “We have to be more careful,” she says. “It was dumb of us to run to the gas station in the middle of the night to get those Slurpees.”

  “Yes, let’s not do anything like that again,” I say, thinking of my downtown trip with Scarlett that Jen doesn’t know about.

  “Anyway, we have to work on our science project soon,” she says.

  “The fair isn’t till next week,” I say. “We have tons of time. Relax.”

  “We don’t have tons of time.”

  “Well, I don’t have time to work on it right now. I’m really busy.”

  “Sure. Me too. Excuse me, I have to shave my legs and put makeup on.”

  She hangs up on me. I think she was being sarcastic. Can you believe it?

  In class, guys are passing around notes saying, “Do you like me?” with a checkbox next to the word “Yes” and another next to the box “No.” When I get one, I add an extra box to make “Maybe” and I check that off just to mess with them.

  Anyway, Scarlett and I are elected as copresidents of the grade seven prom committee. We decided that no grade sixers are allowed at the prom. “It’s because they get one next year anyway,” we explain to the class, just before recess.

  I look at Jen to see how she reacts. She just sits there with her arms crossed. What’s with her attitude these days?

  52

  SO I DIDN’T get a good mark on my science quiz today but it doesn’t matter because I’m not skipping anyway and it’s just not how my brain works so whatever. I do have the science fair coming up, so I can bring up my grade if I work hard on the project, but why should I bother? I need to respect my natural tendencies and not do things that I don’t enjoy because life is short.

  Life is not all about studying and skipping grades. It’s about feeling good and having fun and hanging out with fun girls like Scarlett and people my own age and grade who have the same interests and appreciate me for who I am. Should I tell Mom about my science grade? Maybe not . . .

  53

  I’M PRACTICING PIANO. I have this competition coming up soon so I figure I have to put some time in.

  Outside, Jen is playing hockey with Josh and the Singh boys. It’s the first time I’ve seen them playing since last summer because the Singh boys weren’t allowed to play outside all year. I press hard on the keys, loud, to see if she can hear me, but she doesn’t, or at least pretends she doesn’t, she just laughs and takes slap shots at the net. Then, all of a sudden, I see Nadine run out of her house holding a pair of jeans and yelling at her sister.

  I continue to play.

  As Nadine approaches, Jen shakes her head no and laughs, and Nadine suddenly grabs Jen’s arm and forces her to look again.

  Oh no.

  Jen spins and elbows Nadine in the stomach by accident. Nadine releases Jen’s arm and holds her stomach and charges for Jen, who ducks away, and Nadine almost falls. They are just standing there yelling in each other’s faces. There is nothing I can do because I’m not done practicing piano and my mom would kill me if I stop, so I keep playing louder and louder to match the fight, and then Josh jumps in and tries to separate them, but they continue to yell, then Nadine starts swinging her arms like a windmill coming toward Jen, who is still being held back by Josh and is punching the air like a boxer, and I match my staccato notes to her punches and then Jen breaks free from Josh and the momentum propels her into Nadine, who falls back on the ground, and she just lies there.

  54

  I RUN OUTSIDE and scream: “Oh my God! Nadine!”

  Nadine is flat on the ground, repeating, “My ankle.” Jen stands over her.
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  I look at Jen. “How dare you touch her? What were you thinking? You freak!”

  And she looks me straight in the eyes and then runs inside.

  I help Nadine back inside her house; she hops on one foot. My mom tells me later that Mrs. Ando took Nadine to Surrey Memorial Hospital. It feels so awesome to have done the right thing and helped.

  It’s Saturday. The phone rings. It’s Nadine. “The frozen peas you put on the ankle really helped. Thanks,” she says.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m okay, but I probably won’t be able to dance for a few weeks.”

  “Oh no!” I say. And then I don’t know what comes over me, but I continue, “Hey, prom is in a month; you’ll be able to dance then. Wanna come? You never got a prom and all our friends will be there. It could be fun.”

  “Sure,” she says. And I’m finally realizing that this will be a great, full-circle moment. We will go to prom together, then we will be in the same school next year, and everything will be fine. Like all we had to do was get through this year. I got everything I wanted. I won.

  That night, I stand in the shower. I’ve just started showering instead of taking baths because that’s what grown-ups do and that’s what Nadine does. Actually, real grown-ups, like my mom and dad, take showers in the morning. I haven’t started doing that yet.

  Bottles of shampoo line the edge of the tub. I bought all of these using my allowance. I can’t seem to find shampoo that will make my hair smooth and shiny like Nadine’s or the girls in the commercials on TV. My hair is just the same kinda curly and frizzy mess as always, and I feel like I’ve been swindled.

  I vow to myself that I will shower in the mornings. Starting tomorrow. Maybe that will help make my hair smoother, especially if I blow-dry it.

  55

  MOM IS DRIVING me and James to a piano competition. I don’t really feel like going, but it’s too late now. We’ve already crossed the bridge. The only good thing about piano competitions is that they are downtown. I love the drive downtown. I always bring a book with me because the trip is pretty long, like forty minutes or so. Though I never end up reading the book because it kind of makes me carsick, so I just look out the window instead. We always drive along the freeway, by the farms, and I like watching the cows lying around, taking a nap; they’re pretty cool.

  And then I see it, the best part: Vancouver’s sunset. A baby pink sky folding over peach buildings, down into a powder blue ocean. Like one big pastel smudge in the sky.

  We walk into the Queen Elizabeth Theatre. All the usual kids are there: the girl who always wears frilly party dresses (pink this year), the girl who always wears jeans (Mom always shakes her head in disapproval), and the boy with dark hair who’s a lot older, like sixteen, who always plays jazz. He’s so dreamy.

  I’m backstage, alone, except for a man in a suit and a light blue tie. I’m not quite sure why he is there. He’s not holding a clipboard or anything. He’s just smiling at me.

  I hear my name being called and quickly walk across the stage to the baby grand. Adjust the bench so it is the right distance from the piano, just as Mrs. West told me. I sit. I breathe.

  I start, and it’s amazing how my fingers know where to go and how I don’t really have to think about what to do, they just do it, and I have total trust in my hands and all I have to do is feel when the music should be getting louder and softer; my face goes close to the keys when it’s soft and I jerk up and press my fingers down hard when it goes loud—

  I play the final note so soft, you can barely hear it.

  I smile, and then they clap. And then I bow and move away so the next act can come on.

  James and I approach the piano. We sit down. I’m on the right, he’s on the left. I motion by nodding my head, One, two, three. And then we play.

  We sound fantastic. I don’t think anyone has ever seen two pairs of hands work together so well, and I actually like sitting beside my brother and he’s doing great and I’m really proud of him because this is a pretty hard piece for him, and I think maybe we could be famous one day, like a brother-sister duet sensation, and travel the world and play piano and—

  James stops. Suddenly.

  And I keep playing, waiting for him to jump back in, but he doesn’t know how to because we never practiced that; whenever we screwed up we just started from the beginning, but you can’t do that at piano competitions and so I just keep playing, hoping he’ll come back and join in, but then I play the final note, which really isn’t the final note because James was meant to play it.

  We stand up. I put my hand on the piano and James takes my other hand and we bow together. Just like how Mrs. West taught us and just like how Mom made us practice over and over again.

  We go back to our seats in the audience. He sits on one side of Mom, I sit on the other. And I say nothing to him, I’m so pissed off. Two blond sisters are now onstage playing and they’re okay but not as good as we could have been if my stupid brother hadn’t screwed it up. James reaches over and taps me on the arm and whispers, “I’m sorry, Sara. I’m so sorry. I got scared and just stopped.”

  I win a gold for my solo.

  We win a bronze for the duet.

  That man in the suit gave us our medals.

  In the car, on our way home, I just look at James. And a tear rolls from under his nerdy glasses, down his cheek. He knows it’s his fault we didn’t win gold in the duet. And I say to him, “I hate you. You ruined my life. I’m never playing with you again. I hate playing piano.”

  I don’t feel like doing this anymore. Like ever again. Playing piano with my brother. I’m not a kid anymore; I have a social life now! I just want to go hang out with my friends and be with people my own age.

  56

  WE’RE HAVING a sleepover at Scarlett’s house. Grade seven girls only. We eat pizza and make cookies and do sit-ups while they bake and watch a horror movie and then watch another movie with a little kissing in it on late-night TV and then Scarlett turns off the TV and does what I thought was just a rumor.

  She pulls out an actual copy of the class list (how did she get that?) and goes through it in alphabetical order to gossip about everyone in class. Starting with A, of course.

  “Jen Ando,” Scarlett says.

  And then people start saying things like:

  “Oh my God, she thinks she is so smart!”

  And “Yeah, like, get rid of the bowl haircut already!”

  And “Yeah, what girl skateboards?!”

  Scarlett looks at me and says, “Sara, what do you think? Are you friends with her?”

  And I just look at everyone and say, “Don’t know her too well. I’m just friends with her sister.”

  We go into Scarlett’s older sister Sylvia’s room. All her clothes are in giant piles on the floor. Scarlett digs around and puts some things in my backpack. “She won’t notice. Take them home. Just give them back to me later.”

  The next Monday when Mom drops me off at school, I go straight to the girls’ bathroom on the first floor. There, I meet Scarlett. I open my bag and put on her sister’s clothes and get ready for class.

  The bell rings.

  I wear Sylvia’s short skirt and Scarlett’s black eyeliner. We walk into class together and everyone looks. And then I see Jen and she just rolls her eyes. What is her problem? Whatever, I don’t need her, either.

  After, I walk down the hall to the washroom in my borrowed platform heels. I stand in a stall for the rest of the day, and lean up against the wall. Nobody notices. I don’t feel like learning anyway.

  57

  IT’S THE DAY before the science fair. I realize I do need to work on the project and get a good mark so I don’t actually fail science at this point. I knock on the Andos’ door. Jen answers and says, “What?”

  “Hello? We should probably work on the science project since tomorrow is the fair,” I say.

  “Yeah, well, I have been working on it while you’ve been busy curling your eyelashes and dre
ssing like a ho with Scarlett Davies,” she says.

  Me: “I am not dressing like a ho.”

  Her: “Yes you are, look at you; you’re a ho.”

  “You’re just jealous because you will never look like this,” I say.

  “No, I’m not, believe me.”

  “Well, we better work on the project or else we’ll fail,” I say.

  “You might fail, but I won’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re out,” she says. “It’s my project now.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, you’ve barely helped. I’m just going to tell Monsieur Tanguay the situation.”

  Me: “I’ve worked on it!”

  Her: “No, you haven’t. Instead of studying man-made environmental damages, you’re creating them with all that aerosol hairspray you’re using these days.”

  “Whatever. And as if. I use the pump-spray kind. Anyway, I’ve been busy planning grade seven prom!”

  “Isn’t that ironic, since you’re going to end up failing grade seven anyway!”

  And I just look at her and say, “Whatever.” And I turn around and start to walk home with Jen yelling after me, “HO, HO, HO, MERRY CHRISTMAS!” and I keep walking and it’s raining and my hair is getting soaked, but I don’t care, I am so mad, and Jen runs after me until we are both standing in the middle of the cul-de-sac.

  She looks at me. And I just look at her. Her hair is soaked too. I can feel the mascara dripping down my cheeks.

  Jen: “Why are you doing this?”

  “Doing what?”

  “Acting like this?”

  “Because I don’t like you,” I say. “You’re annoying and loud and you think you know it all. I never liked you when we were little, and I don’t like you now. I just became friends with you to get back at Nadine. You’re a revenge friend.”