‘Where? I don’t see—’
The door slammed behind me.
When my mom went to work on Wednesday, she told me she might be a bit late. ‘Jane and I are going to have a drink after work.’
‘Sure thing,’ I said.
I read Bud, Not Buddy for a while, then forced down some of the chewy tuna casserole Mom had left me. Afterward I put on my rain jacket and my hat, then I walked up to Broadway in the rain, with the rest of the casserole in a yogurt container to give to Preacher Paul. He was a homeless guy who often sat outside the drug store, no matter what the weather. I always said hello to him when Mom and I walked past, even though my mom didn’t like me to.
‘How’s it going, Preacher Paul?’ I said tonight.
‘Not bad, kid.’ I don’t think he remembered my name, even though I told him every time I saw him, but that was OK.
‘You like tuna casserole?’
‘Does it have carrots in it?’
‘Yeah, but you can pick them out.’
He nodded and took the container.
‘Sorry I don’t have a fork.’
‘That’s OK, the Chinese place will give me chopsticks.’
I said good night to Preacher Paul and walked back home. When I was a few houses away, I could see Cosmo in the driveway by his Camaro, talking to someone. As I drew closer, I saw it was a guy a few years older than Cosmo, and tougher looking.
‘What? You don’t have time to have a drink with your best friend?’ the older guy was saying. His voice was like gravel. He had long thinning hair held back by a rubber band and he wore a black leather motorcycle jacket. He was wide and all muscle.
‘It’s not that, Silvio. I’m just trying to stay on the straight and narrow this time, you know?’
‘But it’s not as simple as that, is it?’ said Silvio, and it came out kind of threatening, not like something a best friend would say. ‘We left certain things unfinished.’
‘I know. And I’m working on that. But I don’t want to go back there, Sil …’
‘That might be out of your hands, buddy. Now, c’mon, one drink.’
‘I’ll meet you for coffee tomorrow.’
‘Coffee?’ Silvio laughed, but you could tell he didn’t think it was funny.
‘I took the fall that night, Sil. Isn’t that enough?’
‘Not my fault you went ahead and did the job without me.’
‘Uncle Cosmo?’ That was me talking. The words just popped out of my mouth.
Cosmo and Silvio turned to look at me.
‘You ready to take me to Scrabble Club? It starts in half an hour.’
Cosmo was so surprised, he didn’t answer.
‘You got a nephew?’ asked Silvio.
‘C’mon, Uncle Coz, we’re gonna be late.’
Cosmo found his voice. ‘Sure, buddy. Hop in.’
So I got into the passenger seat of his Camaro, and Cosmo moved to the driver’s side. I heard Silvio say, ‘I’ll come around another time, then.’
‘You do that, Sil.’
Then Cosmo got in and started the car and we pulled away.
The interior of Cosmo’s car was spotless. He had an air freshener in the shape of a pine tree hanging from the rearview mirror, which swung back and forth as we drove. It wasn’t exactly a smooth ride, but since Mom and I had never owned a car ourselves and took buses everywhere we went, I decided to sit back, relax, and enjoy the experience.
We were quiet for a few moments, then Cosmo broke the silence. ‘Uncle Coz?’
I shrugged. ‘Coz. Cosmo. No matter how you slice it, it’s a funny name.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Not funny ha-ha. Funny unusual. Like my name. Ambrose.’
‘No. Ambrose is funny ha-ha.’
‘No, it’s not. It was my dad’s name.’
‘Let me guess. He left because you were such a pain in the ass.’
‘No. He died.’
It’s amazing what those two words do to people when a kid my age is the one to say them. Sometimes I almost enjoy watching it happen. It was no different for Cosmo. He went really quiet, then he said, ‘I’m sorry.’
‘It’s OK. It was before I was even born.’
‘What happened?’
‘Brain aneurism. It just went pop one day.’
‘Is that why your mom’s wound so tight?’
I hadn’t thought of her that way before, but all I said was ‘I guess so.’
‘She’s never met anyone else?’
‘Not really. There was this professor she dated for a while in Regina, when I was younger. Phil. I liked Phil. But one day, she just stopped taking his calls.’
‘Huh.’
‘And there was a guy in Kelowna, but she only went out with him twice.’
‘You’ve moved a lot.’
I shrugged. ‘She’s a sessional lecturer. It’s sort of like a professor without job security. We have to follow the work.’ I didn’t tell him that, aside from the time she was fired, it was usually my mom’s decision to pack up and leave; that after two or three years, she’d become disillusioned when she realized they were never going to offer her a full-time position. So she’d find yet another contract job in another university town.
I looked out my window at the houses that were getting bigger and nicer as we drove up the hill.
‘You didn’t really murder a kid, did you?’
‘What do you think?’
‘No.’
‘Well, you’re right.’
‘Then why were you in jail, really?’
He hesitated, then he said, ‘I did some B and E’s. Breaking and entering into people’s houses.’
‘You stole their stuff?’
He nodded. ‘They let me off on probation the first time, but the second time the judge felt she needed to send me a message, so she sentenced me to six months.’
‘Wow. They let you off the first time and you did it again?’
Cosmo nodded.
‘How dumb is that?’
He looked startled for a second, but then he laughed. ‘You have a point. Truth is, I also had a drug habit. I needed money to feed my addiction. It kind of won out over common sense.’
‘Are you still a druggie?’ I asked, putting my hand on the door handle and calculating that I could always jump out at the next stop sign if it turned out he was driving high.
This made him laugh even harder. ‘A druggie?’
‘Well, are you?’
‘Technically, no. They got me into a rehab program while I was in jail. But I still go to NA meetings twice a week.’
‘NA?’
‘Narcotics Anonymous.’
‘And that guy, Silvio, you knew him from before?’
Cosmo gripped the steering wheel tighter. ‘We were friends. And … business partners.’
‘Meaning, you broke into houses together.’
‘Yeah.’
I looked at the tattoo on his arm. ‘That’s an ugly tattoo.’
He glanced at me. ‘And that’s an ugly hat.’
‘My mom made it,’ I said, offended. ‘At least I can take it off.’
‘Fair enough,’ he said. ‘Now why don’t you tell me, really, why you don’t go to a normal school?’
‘I told you before. Three kids tried to kill me.’
‘The same three kids that were wailing on you the other day?’
‘Yeah.’
‘They really tried to kill you?’
‘I have a peanut allergy. They slipped a peanut into my sandwich, and I almost died.’
He glanced over at me. ‘That sounds so weird, it must be true.’
I peered out the window and saw a modern-looking blue church on the corner. ‘This is the place,’ I said.
Cosmo pulled up next to the curb. We both got out, and he immediately lit a cigarette. ‘Look, you did me a favor back there,’ he said, as he inhaled. ‘So find out how long it’s going to be and I’ll come back and pick you up when you’re done.’
/>
‘No. No way. You’re coming in, too.’
‘No, I’m not.’
‘Yes, you are.’
‘No, I’m not—’
‘Are you two looking for the Scrabble Club?’ A woman was climbing out of a beat-up banana yellow Mazda across the street, carrying a stack of Scrabble boards. She was about Cosmo’s age. She had shoulder-length red hair and a great body. She wore form-fitting jeans and the neatest sweater, with a giant sun on it. It didn’t completely hide the fact that she had nice boobs.
In a word, she was spectacular. Cosmo must have thought so, too, because his mouth was hanging open and he was staring at her.
‘The Scrabble Club,’ she repeated. ‘Are you looking for it?’
Cosmo stood mute beside me, so I said, ‘Yes.’
‘Well, you’re in the right place. I’m Amanda. The club director. Come on in.’ She smiled and she had an overbite, which somehow made her even prettier.
I turned to Cosmo to convince him to come in with me, but I didn’t have to.
He’d butted out his cigarette and was already following Amanda inside.
14
NRTTUAFSIOR
insofar, outfit, friars, fruits, futons
FRUSTRATION
THE WEST SIDE Scrabble Club met in the church basement, in a large room that was normally used for Sunday school. I could tell because there were pictures hung all around the room of Baby Jesus being held by his mother, Mary; and Older Jesus playing with lambs, or talking to his disciples, or holding up fish and loaves of bread. On a blackboard at the front of the room, the words to the song ‘Jesus Loves the Little Children’ were printed in neat letters, and the tables and chairs all had short legs. It looked a lot like the Sunday school I’d gone to in Regina once, when Mom had a brief religious phase. It lasted only for about six months, until she got bored, and we never went back.
‘When did you two start playing Scrabble?’ Amanda asked, as she set up a change box on a table by the entrance. Cosmo and I were the first players there.
I looked at Cosmo. All he said was ‘Only in the last year.’
‘I’ve been playing since I was eight,’ I said. ‘I beat my mom all the time.’
‘Well, here’s how it works. You pay three dollars each to play three games—’
‘Three games?’ said Cosmo. ‘I don’t know if we can stay that long.’
‘You have to stay for all three games, otherwise it messes up the rotation with the other players. We’re normally here for about three hours.’
‘That’s cool,’ I said quickly, calculating that, with Cosmo driving, I could still be home well before my mom. Then I smiled at Cosmo. ‘Can you lend me three bucks?’
He rolled his eyes, but I guess he didn’t want to look like a cheapskate in front of Amanda because he paid for both of us.
‘Our levels are beginner, intermediate, and expert,’ Amanda explained.
‘You can put me in intermediate,’ I said proudly.
Amanda smiled and I noticed her cute overbite again. ‘I’m afraid you automatically go into beginner, kiddo. But if you win lots of games and enter a tournament or two, your ranking will go up pretty quickly. And we have quite a few beginners right now, so you’ll get to play three different people tonight.’
‘Will I get to play you?’ Cosmo asked Amanda, giving her a smile I had never seen before. The tough-guy stuff melted away and he suddenly looked boyish and almost charming.
‘No,’ she laughed, ‘I’m in the intermediate level. C’mon, I’ll show you where you can set up.’
As she walked us to our table, Cosmo nudged me and hissed, ‘Take off your hat – you look like a dork.’ I stuck my tongue out at him, but I took it off and shoved it into my coat pocket.
Other people were trickling in now. They were a lot older than me, but aside from that, they were all different: fat, skinny, short, tall, white, brown, as young as Cosmo or as old as Nana Ruth. One woman was in a business suit and looked like she’d come straight from work. Lots of people were in jeans. A very large woman came dressed in different shades of pink from head to toe. A tall skinny guy with stooped shoulders wore sweatpants with sandals and no socks, even though it was damp and chilly outside. His sweatpants had mustard stains on them.
‘I forgot to bring my board,’ I said to Amanda, as we arrived at our table.
‘You don’t need your board. I bring all the boards. They all have plastic tiles. Can you guess why?’
We both shrugged. She opened two Scrabble boxes and handed me a wooden tile from one set and a plastic tile from the other. ‘Feel them.’
I did, then I passed them to Cosmo. ‘You can feel the letter on the wooden tile,’ he said. ‘It’s indented a bit.’
‘That’s right. Some players can actually figure out what letters they’re grabbing, or recognize a blank tile.’ She sat us down and started setting up one of the club’s boards. ‘Now, because you’re just starting, you get what we call three weeks’ grace. For three weeks, you can challenge your opponent’s words without losing a turn, even if it ends up being a legitimate word. Ditto in reverse, if your opponent challenges one of your words and it isn’t legitimate, you won’t lose a turn. You’re also allowed to use this “cheat sheet” of all the accepted two-letter words.’
She handed us a list. Some of them I recognized, but most of them I didn’t. ‘Za?’ I asked.
‘Short for “pizza”, believe it or not,’ she said.
‘Get out,’ I replied.
‘I kid you not,’ she laughed. ‘Now, if you go over your allotted twenty-five minutes, you won’t be penalized. But after the first three weeks, you get ten points off your score for every minute you go over.’
This was news to me. ‘We have a time limit?’
‘Oh, yes. Otherwise the games could go on forever.’
Games with my mom often did go on forever. ‘How do you know how much time you have?’ I asked.
‘These timers,’ she said, and she showed us a funny-looking box with two buttons on top and two digital displays that each read 25:00. ‘If you’re the first player up, your opponent pushes your timer button the moment you look at your tiles. When you’ve done your turn, you call out your score, then you push your timer button, which stops your clock and starts your opponent’s clock.’
My stomach lurched. Mom and I never played with a clock, or even an hourglass. But by now it was seven, and Amanda was introducing us to the other beginners. I would be playing against Cosmo in my first game, then against an older guy named Mohammed, who had dark skin and a mustache and wore a Canucks jersey. My third opponent would be the enormous woman in pink. Her name was Joan.
I beat Cosmo easily. He kept glancing over at Amanda all the time, instead of paying attention to the game. In the end, our score was 242 to 173.
When it was time to play Mohammed, I was feeling a little more relaxed about the timer and a little more confident. ‘I beat my mom all the time,’ I told him.
‘I beat my roommates all the time,’ he said. ‘In fact, they wouldn’t play with me anymore, so I came here.’
‘You seem kind of old to have roommates,’ I said.
Cosmo, who was sitting next to me playing Joan, heard me and elbowed me, hard. ‘He has no filters,’ he said to Mohammed. ‘He just says what comes into his head.’
But Mohammed just smiled and said, ‘It’s OK.’ He went on to explain, ‘I used to have a wife, but she kicked me out, so now I have roommates.’
We started to play. I was first to go and I laid down ‘TRIAL’, which wasn’t great because all the letters are only worth one point, but I laid the ‘T’ on a double letter score and, being first up, I got to use the star in the middle for a double word score.
‘Sixteen points,’ I said, and pushed the button to stop my clock. Mohammed almost immediately laid down ‘MIS’ in front of ‘TRIAL’ to create ‘MISTRIAL’. The ‘M’ was on the triple word score.
‘Thirty points,’ he said, and he wrote
it down because he was keeping score for both of us.
I put down ‘RUNNY’ starting with the ‘R’ in ‘TRIAL’, and thanks to a double word score, I got another sixteen points.
Mohammed put down the word ‘QUILTS’, adding an ‘S’ to ‘MISTRIAL’ and getting the points for both words (including a double letter score on the ‘Q’), for a score of thirty-seven points.
And that’s how the game went, from one humiliation to the next. I challenged him a lot, on words like ‘YEGG’, ‘TAXON’, and ‘MIAOUS’. Each time we’d walk over to a computer in the corner that was set up to the ‘Word Judge’ program and punch in the word. They were all legitimate.
‘That’s so stupid,’ I grumbled. ‘It’s not like anyone uses those words.’
Mohammed shrugged. ‘If they’re in the Word Judge, they count.’
‘It’s still stupid,’ I muttered.
Mohammed won, 317 to 220. I had never been slaughtered like that.
‘You wait,’ he said. ‘You’ll get better. I was exactly like you when I first came here – a good kitchen player, but this …’ He indicated the room. ‘… this was something completely different.’
‘I had really bad letters,’ I said.
My final game was with Joan. She used up all of her letters three times in one game. I found out there was a word for doing this – a ‘bingo’. Each time, she got a bonus of fifty points. I must’ve challenged her on six words and, except for one, they were all legit.
‘This is stupid. Whoever heard of “CULTI”?’
‘The Scrabble dictionary, that’s who,’ Joan said. Then she laid down another bingo.
Beside us, Cosmo was done his game with Mohammed. He’d lost all three of his games, but it didn’t seem to bother him. Amanda had to sit out her last game because they were short a player, and I saw Cosmo make a beeline for her and start chatting her up in the corner. He must’ve been saying funny things because she laughed a lot.
The final score of my game with Joan was a humiliating 385 to 223. I stood up so fast, I knocked my little chair over. I didn’t bother picking it back up. I could see Joan and Mohammed whispering about me as Mohammed picked up my chair, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to get out of there. I marched up to Cosmo, jamming my multicolored hat back onto my head.
Word Nerd Page 6
