‘Did you hear what I said?’
‘Yeah. Got it.’ And I did. He was telling me that it was better for him – better for both of us – if that’s what everyone else who lived here thought this was.
‘How horrible, what happened to the Economopouloses,’ my mom said, as we walked over to Cypress Elementary the next day. It was a beautiful warm April afternoon, and it was even more special because it came after three days of rain. The warm sun on the wet grass and the trees and the millions of colorful flowers that now bloomed all over the place made everything smell delicious.
‘Dumb teenagers,’ I said.
‘I picked this neighborhood because it was supposed to be safe. Then we wind up with an ex-con upstairs, and now this …’
‘Mom. It is safe.’
I logged on to my cyber-teacher and, as usual, Mr Acheson stopped by to say hello. He was all dressed up in a navy blue suit that I hadn’t seen before and he looked like he’d lost some weight. He and my mother wandered off to talk about who knows what while I got my work done. As usual, I didn’t budge from the lab until my mom returned; I’d learned my lesson about leaving the school solo. She was a few minutes late, again. While I waited, I thought I caught a glimpse of Troy walking past, and I wondered what poor sucker the Three Stooges had chosen to pick on, now that I was gone.
Like I said, it was just a routine day. That is, until we got home. Because that’s when a miracle happened. A minor miracle, but still, one of those perfect little moments that make you think there really is a Higher Being up there, and that for one random moment, he’s watching over you and no one else.
Mom was listening to music while she made one of her tuna casseroles, so I’d have something to eat once she left for work. I was reading Inkspell, the sequel to Inkheart.
Mom put the casserole into the oven, then she turned to me. ‘Ambrose, we need to talk.’
‘About what?’
‘Put your book down.’
She turned off the music and sat beside me on the couch. I put my book down and looked at her. She sounded serious, and she looked serious, too. My stomach started to do somersaults. I was sure I was busted. She must have found out Cosmo and I were spending time together.
‘You know that I will never love any man the way I loved your father,’ she began.
‘Yeah.’
‘And you know that my first priority, forever and always, is you, Ambrose. You’re the most important person in my life, period.’
‘I do know that.’ And suddenly I felt a wave of panic. She was going to tell me she had six months to live. ‘Mom, is something wrong? Are you sick?’
She laughed and said, ‘Oh, God, no, nothing like that.’ She took a deep breath and continued, ‘I’ve been asked on a date.’
‘A date?’
‘Well, it’s not really a date, it’s a one-day cooking class.’
‘Who asked you?’
‘Bob. Mr Acheson.’
‘You’re kidding me.’ But I knew she wasn’t. All those times he’d ‘casually’ dropped by now made perfect sense. Still, it was hard to imagine Mr Acheson, with his nose hairs and his wacky ties and his receding hairline, dating anyone, let alone my mom.
‘It’s a funny story, actually,’ Mom continued, twirling a piece of hair on her finger – a sure sign she was nervous. ‘He won a contest. He entered his name in a draw at a bookstore, and he won two tickets to an all-day Italian cooking course at Barbara Jo’s Books to Cooks two Saturdays from now. So, in some ways, it’s not really a date, we’re just … taking a course together, and I thought, well, it wouldn’t hurt for me to learn a few more skills in the kitchen …’
She looked at me, concerned, because I was dead quiet. I was quiet partly because I just couldn’t picture my mom with Mr Acheson, but mostly because I was thinking that the Scrabble tournament was two Saturdays from now. She could go to her cooking course. I could play in the tournament.
‘Ambrose, if you don’t want me to go, just say so. I’ll call him and tell him no. In fact, I should probably call and tell him no anyway—’
‘No!’ I shouted, startling her. ‘I mean … of course you should go. You should go on dates. You’re not bad looking for someone your age.’
‘Gee, thanks,’ she said.
‘You’re welcome. Just – don’t look in his nose. He has lots of nose hairs.’
‘Really? I hadn’t noticed. Actually, I think he’s kind of cute.’
I almost fake-barfed, but I stopped myself.
‘You’re honestly sure you’re OK with this?’
‘I’m sure. Go.’
She smiled, relieved.
And so did I.
Later that afternoon, I was on a cloud when Mom went to work. I wanted to run upstairs and tell Cosmo the good news, but I remembered he had an NA meeting after work. The Economopouloses were out, too, because I couldn’t hear their footsteps or their Greek music upstairs.
So I warmed up some tuna casserole and ate it, then I practiced my blocks and my punches to a Bryan Adams CD. When I was done, I got out some of the word lists Mohammed had printed up for me and put on the TV for company.
At about eight o’clock, there was a knock on the door.
It was dark outside, and I could just see a figure through the gauze curtain on the window. Our outdoor light had burned out, so I couldn’t flip it on for a better look. I figured it was Cosmo, home from his meeting. But when I threw open the door, it wasn’t Cosmo.
It was Silvio.
You know that expression, ‘My heart leapt into my throat’? Well, that’s what mine did. He was even scarier looking up close and he was standing under our outside light. His skin was kind of gray and his teeth were all crooked and yellow.
‘Hey. Remember me?’ he said. He smiled, but it wasn’t friendly.
‘Sh-should I?’ I squeaked.
‘I’m your uncle Cosmo’s friend.’
‘Oh, yeah. Um, he’s not home right now.’ I tried to close the door, but he held out one powerful arm to stop it.
‘You’re not really his nephew, are you?’
‘I – what are you talking about?’
‘You think I’m an idiot?’
‘No.’ My stomach felt queasy. I was afraid I might have a diarrhea poo, right there in front of him, right in my pants. All I could think about was that he could kill me with his bare hands and my mom would find the body when she came home from work. All her over-protective theories would be proved right, and she’d be left truly alone in the world. It was enough to make me want to cry.
‘Pass a message on to your “uncle” for me, will you?’
I nodded.
‘Tell him his buddy Silvio dropped by tonight. And I want what he owes me.’
‘He’s working on it, I swear, he told me—’
‘You tell him fifty bucks here and fifty bucks there doesn’t cut it. I want my money. Paid in full. Or else.’
‘Or else what?’ I couldn’t help asking.
He didn’t answer that. He just said, ‘Think you can manage that?’
I nodded.
‘Great. Then have a nice evening. And lock the door behind me. Hasn’t your mother warned you not to open the door to strangers?’ He laughed like he thought this was really funny and sauntered away.
I slammed the door and locked it and dragged a heavy chair in front of it. I’d have to remember to remove the chair before Mom got home, which meant I wouldn’t be able to go to bed before then.
But that wouldn’t be a problem. No way would I be sleeping a wink tonight.
22
PTHRUIMTAN
truth, pith, train, trip, mirth, ruin, truant
TRIUMPHANT
NOW THAT THE weather was getting nicer and the days longer, the Economopouloses started doing a lot more barbecuing. I would wander into the backyard whenever I smelled meat cooking, and they’d always invite me to join them. I never said no.
One night, Amanda came over. She and Cosmo were ta
king it slow, but she’d agreed to his invitation for dinner and to meet his family. She arrived at the door wearing a moss green sweater that was made of the softest wool in the world. I know because I got to touch it when she gave me a hug hello.
Cosmo blushed as he brought her into the living room and introduced her. ‘Ma, Pop, this is Amanda Svecova. She’s …’ He searched for the right word. ‘… a friend.’
Mr and Mrs E were very polite, but they spoke a lot in Greek to Cosmo. Finally Cosmo laughed and said in English, ‘You’re right, she isn’t Greek.’
Mrs E punched Cosmo in the arm, embarrassed that he’d translated, but Amanda just smiled. ‘I’m half Czech, half Irish from way back when, but mostly I’m Canadian.’
After that, things settled down and Amanda scored bonus points with Mr E when she told him that The Mercer Report was one of her favorite shows on TV, because it was one of Mr E’s favorites, too.
‘That Rick, he should run for prime minister,’ Mr E said, in remarkably good English. ‘Him or the Brent Butt from Corner Gas.’
She scored points with Mrs E, too, when she asked for seconds. ‘I like that,’ Mrs E whispered to me. ‘A girl who’s not afraid to eat.’
I wanted to help Cosmo and Amanda in any way I could, so I said, ‘You’re right. She eats like a pig.’
After supper, Amanda insisted on helping Mrs E with the dishes. Cosmo, Mr E, and I settled into our seats in the living room and turned on a soccer game on TV. But a minute later, Amanda marched back in and said, ‘Cosmo? Ambrose? Did I mention you’re drying?’
We groaned, but we got up and helped. Cosmo kept flicking his dish towel at Amanda and Mrs E. They yelled at him to stop, but they were laughing too.
When we were done, Amanda went to her car. She came back with her Scrabble board and set it up on the dining room table. ‘OK, Ambrose,’ she said. ‘You’re going to play a game against me.’
She stopped a lot as we played. ‘See how I just laid tiles on a triple word score? You could have prevented me from doing that,’ she said, and she showed me how. She also showed me how to keep track of what tiles were left in the bag, so I could roughly guess what letters my opponent had and how I could make multiple words in just one turn. Cosmo watched, and even Mr and Mrs E wandered in and out to see how we were doing.
Then she tried to teach me some relaxation techniques. ‘In case you ever start to panic,’ she said. ‘It happens to the best of us.’
She taught me how to take a deep breath in, then a deep breath out, to calm my nerves. ‘Then there’s positive imaging,’ she said. ‘If you get into a tight spot, imagine something that makes you really calm and content. Go on, try it.’
So I did. I had a hard time coming up with something at first. Then I thought of my dad. His image made me feel calm and content, but it also made me sad and lonely. I’d have to work on the positive imaging.
I thought about telling Cosmo about my visit from Silvio, but there was never a good time, and I just didn’t see the point. I knew he was working on paying Silvio back, and I knew he didn’t want to borrow money from his parents, so why stress him out even more? It wasn’t like there was much else he could do about it. Nothing legal, anyway.
The weeks passed and suddenly it was the night before the tournament. My mind was full of words and my stomach was doing somersaults (maestros, masseurs, molasses, amulets, armless, assumes, ass). It was impossible to sleep. Finally, after tossing and turning till about three o’clock in the morning, I got up to grab a glass of water. My mom was sitting on the couch.
‘Mom?’
‘What are you doing up?’
‘Couldn’t sleep.’
‘Me, neither.’
I sat beside her. She was looking through our favorite photo album, the one with all the pictures of Dad. She’d taken almost all of them herself.
‘I don’t think I should go to the cooking class,’ she said.
My heart sank. ‘Why?’
‘I think I’ll call Bob and cancel.’
‘You can’t do that!’ I must’ve said it a bit too loud because she looked at me funny. But then I figured it out. She couldn’t sleep. She was staring at photos of Dad. ‘Mom, Dad wouldn’t mind.’
She just turned the page.
‘He’s been dead almost thirteen years. And everything you’ve ever told me about him … he was a great guy.’
‘He really was, Ambrose.’
‘Then he’d want you to move on.’
‘I’m hardly “moving on”. It’s just a cooking class.’
‘Exactly. It’s just a cooking class. Besides, you can’t cancel now. Mr Acheson would never find someone else.’
She sighed. ‘You’re right. I’ll go. As long as you promise me you’re truly OK with it.’
‘Mom. I am truly OK with it.’
Which was mostly true.
Mom was supposed to leave by eight o’clock in the morning. Cosmo and I were going to meet in his driveway as soon as she’d left. At 8:05 she stepped out of her bedroom, dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt. I tried not to look anxious as she pulled on her brown suede jacket.
‘How do I look?’ she asked. Her brow was furrowed as she checked herself out in the full-length mirror that hung by our apartment entrance.
‘You look great,’ I said. ‘Casual, but great.’
She nodded. ‘You’re right. It’s too casual.’
‘That’s not what I meant—’
But she was already back in her bedroom, changing. I paced the living room, staring at the clock. At 8:13 she emerged again, this time in a black skirt, gray blouse, and high heels.
‘Well?’
‘Perfect. Beautiful. Elegant,’ I said hastily. ‘Now get going, or you’re going to be late.’
‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘It’s too elegant.’
Oh, man. She disappeared back into her room.
This time I took the opportunity to dash outside to the driveway, where Cosmo stood waiting. ‘What’s taking you so long?’ he demanded.
‘My mom,’ I replied. ‘She’s having a fashion crisis. Don’t leave without me.’
‘Hurry!’ he shouted after me, as I raced back into our apartment, just in time to see Mom emerge from her bedroom, this time in a blue skirt and a white blouse.
‘Perfect!’ I declared. ‘As Goldilocks would say, it’s “just right.”’
This was the correct thing to say, I guess, because her face relaxed into a smile. ‘Would you look at the time,’ she said. I wanted to shout that I was looking at the time, that I knew all too well that it was now 8:28. She grabbed her purse.
‘OK, bye, have fun,’ I said.
‘You have Bob’s cell phone number?’
‘Yes.’
‘You can check in with me anytime.’
‘I know.’
‘If you go out, stick to the neighborhood.’
‘Yes.’
‘And don’t cross any busy roads.’
‘Mom! I know. We’ve been through all of this.’
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘The class goes till six. I’ll see you by six-thirty or seven.’
And then, at 8:33 precisely, she left.
I waited till she was safely out of sight, then I ran to the driveway. Cosmo and I raced to the Kitsilano Community Centre, which was where the tournament was being held because the West Side United Church was too small to fit everyone.
‘What have I told you about the purple pants?’ Cosmo asked, eyeing my clothes as we drove through the side streets.
‘They’re my lucky pants,’ I said. I was wearing a bright red-hooded sweatshirt on top that said I’M FEELING LUCKY on the front, another primo garage-sale find. On my feet were my Ikes. I thought I looked pretty good.
‘Well, you certainly are colorful, I’ll give you that,’ he said.
‘You’re letting your tattoo show,’ I replied, looking at his short-sleeved T-shirt.
‘I’m hoping it’ll intimidate some of my opponents. I need
all the help I can get.’
When we parked on a tree-lined street near the center, he hauled a big basket out of the trunk.
‘What’s that?’
‘A picnic lunch. I made it,’ he said proudly. ‘I’m hoping Amanda will join us.’
We started walking to the community center, which, between its buildings and its grounds, took up two full city blocks. It was a gorgeous, warm, sunny May day, and the adjoining sports fields were full of teams playing soccer and baseball.
The place was just as busy inside, and I realized most of the people were heading into the gym Amanda had rented for the tournament.
‘How many people are here?’ I asked Amanda, when we saw her at the door.
‘At last count, we had close to a hundred entries,’ she replied. ‘But enough chitchat, you’d better get a move on. Your first game starts in five minutes.’
I ran to the bathroom and had a diarrhea poo.
Five minutes later I hurried into the gymnasium. It was full of row upon row of tables and chairs. Close to a hundred Scrabble players from across North America were settling into the chairs, and many of them were setting up their own special Scrabble boards. Some were custom-made and some, Amanda told me later, were even homemade. I saw a few people wearing earplugs to block out extra noise. One guy had a sock monkey propped up beside him on the table, which I guessed was his good luck charm, sort of like my purple pants.
I checked the play lists and found my seat across from a little old lady with blue-white hair. Her name was Betsy and she wore a dress with butterflies all over it. She looked a bit like Nana Ruth. Amanda had told me that since I wasn’t ranked yet, I’d play with other unranked players for the first two games. After that, the computer would decide who I’d play with in my division, trying to match me to people with similar scores.
I asked Betsy where she was from.
‘Comox,’ was all she said, then it was time to choose our tiles. Betsy drew an ‘A’, so she started. She looked like a kitchen player, and I relaxed a little, knowing I would have an easy opponent my first game of the day.
But when her first word was ‘ANTHEMS’, for a double word score, a double letter score, and a bingo of an extra fifty points for using all her letters, I knew that I was in trouble.
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