Finding Hope

by Colleen Nelson

  I got used to the pattern of behaviour. He’d disappear for days and then come home when the high started to wear off so he could crash. He’d sleep for two days straight and wake up ravenous. Then, he’d mope around the house or spend the day staring at the TV, like his best friend had died.

  He didn’t go to school anymore. None of us were surprised when the principal called, asking Mom and Dad for a meeting at school. Eric was failing his classes. He wasn’t going to graduate.

  Mom and Dad gave him an ultimatum: either straighten out or live somewhere else.

  I left my first poem for him taped to his door, where he’d be sure to see it.

  Sand running through

  My fingers.

  Fluid.

  I lost you in the cracks.

  I keep digging,

  But you are too

  Far

  Gone.

  I don’t know what he did with it, but when I came home from school that day, it was gone. And so was he.

  Eric

  I pulled out the wad of papers in my back pocket. Hope’s poems, eight of them folded together into a tight, thick package, and the photos she’d left for me. A couple I’d tossed, but the ones of us when we were kids, I kept.

  I stared at the one of me in my hockey gear, grinning into the camera and leaning in a hockey stance on my stick.

  I remembered that day. After the photos, Coach Williams had introduced himself. He’d seen me play and wanted me to come out for a few practices with the Hornets. A Junior AAA team. I’d bit back a smile, because I had a burning desire to play faster, better—and know it mattered to someone.

  Looking at my grinning face in the photo made me sick. If I’d known what was in store for me, would I have said yes to his offer?

  Rage filled me. Out of nowhere, it seared through my gut and exploded through my mouth. I got off the bench and tried to lift it up, straining with the effort, but it was bolted down. I kicked it, yelling curses at the top of my lungs. Then ran to the chain-link fence and slammed my body against it, clawing, trying to shake it loose.

  I’d let him do things to me. I wailed at what I’d let happen. It was too much. To think about it squeezed my head, the thoughts ramming against my brain inside and out. I couldn’t get free of them.

  I was on the ground, racked by sobs. My gut sore, my mind wasted, my body rotting.

  Something wet and warm on my fingers. Storm licking me. She nuzzled against my arm and lay down in the crook of my armpit.

  Hope’s poems sat in a ball a few feet away, white against the green grass.

  She never knew about Coach Williams. No one did.

  Hope

  A blackbird landed on the branch outside my window, its wing feathers spread like fingers. An ugly squawk when it opened its mouth.

  I’d put off calling Mom for as long as I could, but the curiosity was killing me. Knowing would be better than wondering. Mom answered on the second ring, like she was waiting by the phone. Maybe she was.

  “Have you heard from Eric?” she asked right away.

  I closed my eyes with relief. If she was looking for him, he was still alive, the worst hadn’t happened. “No. Why?”

  A slight hesitation. “Oh, no reason. I just wondered if he’d checked in with you. He”—she dropped her voice. I imagined her going into the kitchen, escaping to somewhere Dad couldn’t hear her—“hasn’t been by in a few days.”

  That wasn’t unusual for Eric. He’d probably crashed somewhere, exhausted after days of being awake. She took a long breath. It echoed in my ear, magnified by the phone. “Is there something else?” I asked. She sounded more concerned than normal. We’d gotten used to his sporadic appearances.

  “No,” she answered too quickly.

  “Look, if you’re really worried, leave him some food in the old tree stump. If it’s gone, you’ll know he’s okay.” I felt like a traitor for spilling our secret.

  She gave a mirthless laugh. “The stump? Where you used to build forts? That’s where you …” Her voice trailed off. Looked after him, the unspoken words. Gave him the help that his own mother wouldn’t, or couldn’t: clothes from his room, notes to tell him when Dad would be gone, leftovers disappeared from the fridge. “You never told me.”

  “I should have,” I said, but didn’t mean it. It wasn’t her right to know everything about us.

  We made small talk for a few minutes. She asked about school, how I was settling in, who I was spending my time with. I lied, making my time at Ravenhurst sound better than it was. I told her Cassie and I hung out, and I invented friendships with other girls. If she knew how unhappy I was, she’d suggest I come home and I didn’t want to do that. At Ravenhurst, I could forget about Eric and pretend my fractured family was whole again.

  Thursday, September 18, 11:45 p.m.

  To: Hope

  From: Devon

  Subject: Hi from Hellton

  It’s after curfew. I’m not supposed to be on my computer, but I couldn’t sleep. Are you staying at Ravenhurst this weekend? We should meet up. What’s your cell number? Mine is 555-3009

  D.

  Friday, September 19, 8:04 a.m.

  To: Devon

  From: Hope

  Subject: Weekend

  There’s a coffee shop on the corner of Harrow and Garfield St. Do you know it? We could meet there. 1:00 p.m. on Saturday? 555–7893

  Hope

  I hadn’t known what to think about his emails at first. No guy had ever approached me before, either in real life or online. My replies had been cautious at first. Who was he? He’d just seen my profile picture in the online student directory and sent me a message? Wasn’t that kind of weird? But how else would he meet girls at an all-boys school?

  He’d been at Melton since he was twelve and hated it. He knew some of the Ravens because our schools did activities together. He thought they were bitchy and stuck-up. That’s why he liked me. I wasn’t part of that world. When I read that, I knew I could trust him.

  I’d get to meet him tomorrow. My heart gave a leap of excitement, followed quickly by nasty voices in my head. What if he didn’t like me? What if the relationship we’d created online was stilted and uncomfortable when we met face to face?

  I pushed the negativity out of my head. Maybe he was the soulmate friend I’d been looking for. I’d always thought it would be a girl, but why? Devon was so much easier to talk to. There wasn’t any drama or hidden meanings that I didn’t know how to decode.

  I started to send a message to Devon and glimpsed the remains of the poem I’d scrawled on myself days ago. Like almost-erased footprints, I followed the track backwards to my elbow. I’d scrub it off tonight in the shower. The last thing I wanted was for Devon to see my insecurities laid bare on my flesh.

  Eric

  All I could think about was getting high. Each footstep was one closer to a fix. My body pulsed with the thought of it. I tried the rubbing alcohol I’d stolen from the pharmacy, soaking my shirt with it and sniffing it, but it just gave me a headache and burned my nose. No good.

  I’d made it into the city—past the winding butterfly highway, through an industrial area that stunk with belching factories—and found a park. There were places to hide, thickets of trees I could camp in, and washrooms. Luxury not to have to squat and wipe my ass with leaves. But nothing helped the greyness that suffocated me without meth.

  Not the bottle of whiskey I’d found hidden in the bushes, sucking back the few drops of amber liquid at the bottom. Or the submarine sandwich some girl had handed me out of her car window. Everything was dull. A flat line.

  Storm wanted to run. She tugged on the leash. The gauze was dirty, bits of grass and sand had gotten tangled in the fabric. We’d spent the last two nights in the park, hiding from the park police who patrolled. It was getting colder at night. I’d hugged Storm aga
inst me, shivering in my jacket and unable to sleep.

  Storm strained at the gauze, her front paws pedalling in mid-air. “What is it?” I asked, annoyed. Standing up, I let her lead me but had to run to keep up with her. Her breath came in jagged gasps in her determination to get somewhere.

  She led me to a clump of bushes, where a dog, still on its leash, was tangled up inside. I rubbed Storm’s head and crawled in. The dog barked at me. “Don’t be scared,” I said softly. He tried to move backwards into the bush, away from me, but the branches wouldn’t let him. I kept talking as I untangled his leash, finally pulling him out. Burrs and leaves were all over his coat and I wondered how long he’d been trapped in there.

  The new dog had a silver tag in the shape of a heart: LOUIE and a phone number.

  It took some convincing to get the park office to let me use their phone. The woman at the front desk shot me a horrified look when I walked in. Without the smells and noises of outside, I was exposed. Conspicuous inside an office with carpet and furniture, I itched to get back outside.

  “It’s just to call the owner,” I told her, trying to control my temper. “I found her dog.” The woman didn’t know what to do and called security.

  “If I had any change, I’d use a pay phone,” I mumbled. “But I don’t.” The security guy stood over me as I dialled, two dogs at my feet sniffing each other’s butts.

  Hope

  Why hadn’t he shown up? I’d sat in the café for half an hour, breathing in the smell of freshly baked scones and percolating coffee and flipping the pages of a book without reading a word. I’d chosen the book carefully, something that would impress him. Hoping I looked brainy but not pretentious. As I sat at a table by the window, I forced my eyes to stare at the pages, not the door. My phone sat in front of me, frustratingly silent. I’d turned it on and off twice to ensure it was in good working order. Where was he?

  Lizzie, Emily, and Vivian walked past outside, their arms linked so they took up the whole sidewalk. I slouched down in my chair. It was the third time I’d seen them go past. This time, Lizzie paused at the glass. The gold letters spelling out “Grace’s Café” on the window were at eye level, obscuring her vision. She sank down, our faces inches apart but separated by glass. I felt like a zoo animal as she peered at me, her breath fogging the window.

  Turning to my book, I tried to concentrate, but she kept staring. My heart beat faster and I angled my chair away from the window, reaching for my glass of water. I glanced at the clock. Devon was now forty minutes late. Why? Was he sick? Had he forgotten? Had he seen the Ravens mocking me at the window and turned away? A list of reasons for him not showing ran through my head, and a sick feeling rose in my stomach.

  I should text him. What if something was wrong? But—and the thought made my heart ache—what if he had come and then chosen to leave? Texting him and not getting a reply would confirm it.

  “Love.” The owner, a short woman with reddish hair and a ruddy complexion, waddled to my table. “Are you going to order something? Can’t have you sitting here all day with only a glass of water.”

  I glanced out the window. The Ravens had disappeared from view. “Sorry. I was waiting for someone, but I guess they aren’t coming.” I shut the book, not bothering to turn down the page. Just then, a tall, good-looking boy came in. His hair was brown, like Devon’s. It could be him! A rising wave of hope flooded through me and I looked at him with an expectant smile, waiting for him to spot me.

  He did. His eyes flickered over me and then to the table behind me, where an older couple sat. They rose to give him a welcoming hug. It wasn’t Devon. My face fell and the owner clamped a hand onto my shoulder.

  “I’ve some day-olds in the back,” she said. “Did you want one to take with you?”

  She was kind, but pastries weren’t going to lift the heavy weight of disappointment that had settled in my stomach. He hadn’t come. Or had, but then changed his mind about meeting me.

  She bustled back in a moment with a white paper bag. Butter had already leaked through, dotting it with shiny grey spots.

  “Thanks,” I muttered, fumbling with my jacket, and darted toward the door. The old brass doorknob turned in my hand and I slid outside. The air had turned chilly overnight. Leaves from the old oak trees overhead floated down. When I shut the door, all three Ravens were in front of me. Standing a few inches too close, I had no choice but to look at them.

  Lizzie smiled, her eyes narrowed to slits. “Waiting for someone?”

  “No,” I answered quickly.

  “Really? It looked like you were. I wonder why he didn’t come? I assume it was a boy. You fixed your hair. It almost looks nice.” She hissed the last word.

  I gritted my teeth and turned in the other direction, but all three shuffled in front of me. I was trapped.

  The café door jingled open. “Your bag, love! You left it on the chair.” The owner stood halfway outside, my purse extended at the end of her mottled, fleshy arm. Lizzie and her friends moved aside so I could take it. “What are you three up to? Seen you standing out here loitering. Get on with you before I call the school. You know the rules. Go on!” She shooed them away with a flap of her hand.

  They shot me a warning glance and turned away, hair shining in the sun, and linked arms again, like carefree schoolgirls.

  “Best stay away from those ones.” She gave me a look of motherly concern and went back inside.

  I wished I could.

  Hope

  I couldn’t concentrate on my homework. Words floated around me like a mist. I grabbed some of them, lifting up the hem of my skirt and inscribing them on my thigh, vandalizing my body.

  Thick shadows

  Suffocate

  Pressing from all sides,

  Gasping, I struggle.

  Like a noose

  They get tighter.

  There hadn’t been any emails or texts from Devon. No explanation about why he hadn’t shown up. I’d spent the rest of the weekend moping, going over in my mind every possible reason he hadn’t shown. Some of them gave me hope, and others turned dark and twisted.

  The mattress springs squeaked. I felt along the wooden frame under my quilt. I’d carved a poem into it last night. I liked the feel of the gouged letters, under my fingertips.

  I had a history mid-term to study for. But every time I opened a book the words swam across the page and my mind started to wander. Even in class, I zoned out. Sometimes it was about the Ravens, what-if questions: What if I’d cut Cassie’s hair? What if I’d never started hanging out with them? What if I’d never left Lumsville? But always my thoughts drifted back to Devon: What if he’d shown up? A vicious circle.

  There was a beep from my computer. I had a message. Scrambling to my desk, I opened my email, praying that it was from Devon.

  Monday, September 22, 4:04 p.m.

  To: Hope

  From: Devon

  Subject: Sorry

  Sorry I didn’t meet you in town. I’ve been sick. Food poisoning or something. I really wanted to meet you, and I’m not just saying that. Let’s try again on Saturday. I promise not to eat the cafeteria’s Friday Night Surprise again.

  D.

  I laughed out loud with relief when I read Devon’s email. He’d had food poisoning. Oh, thank God! I’d never been so happy to hear someone was sick in my life. He hadn’t stood me up. The knot of worry in my stomach unravelled and turned to feathers, tickling my insides.

  I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face as I replied to his email.

  Monday, September 22, 4:08 p.m.

  To: Devon

  From: Hope

  Subject: Weekend

  I hope you’re feeling better! I was so sad when you didn’t show up.

  I’d love to meet you this weekend, but it’s actually my birthday, so my mom is either coming in to the city, or I’m going h
ome this weekend. L At least it means a break from RH, but it screws up our plans to get together.

  H.

  Tuesday, September 23, 6:32 p.m.

  To: Hope

  From: Devon

  Re: Weekend

  I want to celebrate your birthday. We should go out somewhere for dinner, but it can’t be the weekend after next, because that’s homecoming and my parents are coming in. We’ll discuss their favourite topic: whether or not I have a girlfriend. Wish I knew what to say …

  D.

  Tuesday, September 23, 6:35 p.m.

  To: Devon

  From: Hope

  Subject: !!!!

  What’s that supposed to mean?! Email back right away and EXPLAIN YOURSELF! If you’re asking what I think you’re asking, then YES!

  Love, H.

  Eric

  Louie’s owner gave me $200 as a reward.

  But it was tainted. The way she’d handed it to me, like I didn’t deserve it, even though she’d told me on the phone that if it was Louie I’d found, she’d pay.

  I tried to tell her where I’d found him, but she was in such a rush to get away from me that she didn’t want to hear. Stuck-up bitch. I’m as good as you, I wanted to tell her. You think you’re so much better than me? Well, you’re not.

  I didn’t realize I was mumbling till a kid on a bike asked his dad who I was talking to.

  Two-goddamned-hundred-fucking dollars! The thought coursed through my head. Finally, something good had happened. I had to be smart about this, I told Storm. Not blow it all at once. I had to find a place to crash first, and warm clothes. And a leash for Storm, so she wouldn’t get lost.