The Wolf and Me: The Seven Sequels

by Richard Scrimger

  The clock says 10:04.

  Whats that? I ask Joe. Pointing at the sticker on the dash.

  Oh that is the coat of arms of—some place he says.

  If I was going to try to spell the some place it would come out Pee Yan Vee Ah. Thats not the way Joe says it but I cant write down his spitting and clearing his throat sounds.

  I try to say it. Pee Yan Vee Yah?

  I know that name. Ive herd it befor.

  Close says Joe.

  The sun glints off his teeth for a second when he smiles. He really does look like Superman—or maybe an ad for beer or happyness.

  We pass a truck and a small car.

  Wait—isnt Pee Yan Vee Yah the place you asked about back at the police station? I say. You wanted to know if my grampa had been there.

  I was interested he says. My mother and father were born there. Im Canadian but my background is Pee Yan Vee Yan. Theres a lot of us in Canada he says. Toronto and Montreal have big Pee Yan Vee Yan communities. And Winnipeg.

  Sure I say.

  The next sine is for a gas station. Joe puts on his turn signal. Were running low he says. And Im hungry. Do you want a sandwich?

  Sure I say.

  There are 4 gas tanks under a tall roof. Joe gets out and rolls his sholders to make them looser. I stay in and yawn. When I stretch my left hand touches the rug on Joe’s seat. Its fur not sheepskin. Huh.

  The country side is bumpy like the blankets when you get out of bed. The sun is above the trees. Its a winter sun—more white than yellow. Its trying to warm you up but it cant.

  Joe goes into the Tim Hortons next door. He has his phone up to his ear and he is shaking his head. I check the driver rug. It is fur all rite—an entire animal. The hind legs hang down in front and the head stretches over the back of the seat under the head rest.

  A wolf.

  WEIRD EH?

  All the wolf stuff. I can hear the worry voice in my head. No reason for this since my adventure is over and I am on my way home. But I dont like the idea of killing a wolf and skinning him and sitting on him. Whether hes your grampa or not doesnt matter. Its not cool. And thats not the only thing. Joe was lying about his phone. He said it wasnt working and it is. Is there anything else hes lying about?

  Worry worry worry worry worry.

  Joe drives away with a jerk and eats his sandwich in chomps. His cheeks are smoother than Dads. They move all the time—even after he finishes eating. He taps the steering wheel. Dad would tell him to chill. He says that to Mom a lot. It is his way of saying to take it easy.

  We pass a sine that says TORONTO 113.

  Do you know the way to Creekside? Joe asks me.

  No I say. Sorry.

  My sandwich is meat and cheese like Joes. And mustard. Its pretty good.

  But do you know where it is?

  Not really.

  He nods like he is pleased.

  No problem he says. I do. You relax for a while.

  Joe is driving me and getting me lunch but he wont let me use his phone. So he is being nice to me but he is also not being nice to me. That doesnt make sense. Something else is going on.

  I finish my sandwich and milk. The numbers on the sines get smaller and smaller. Toronto 78. Toronto 56. Joe doesnt talk and nether do I. I close my eyes. I feel like I am waiting for a balloon to pop. Something is about to happen. I know it. I just know it.

  Worry worry worry worry worry.

  I open my eyes. Close them. Open them again.

  Nothing happens. We keep driving.

  So much for what I know.

  The road gets wider. 3 lanes then 4 then a hole bunch. Ive been here befor. We pass a mall with a gas station and a dollar store and a Happy New Year banner. The road bends and the land falls away so I get a wide view of the lake on my left. It goes all the way to the horizon and there is ice a long way out. The sun bounces off it. The clock ticks from 12:23 to 12:24. Theres lots of cars on the road and they are going fast.

  Joe puts on his turn signal and swoops over. We are off the 401 but where are we?

  Is this how you get to Creekside? I ask.

  It isnt how the bus took me there from the court house in Toronto. And its not how mom and dad took me home last week.

  Joes hair shines with whatever he puts in it.

  We are going to stop for a moment on our way to Creekside he says. I have to drop something off.

  Oh I say.

  We turn and turn again and drive down a twisty street. We are in the middle of a lot of houses and all of them look the same. Same front window and porch.

  Same roof with 2 pointy bits facing the street. Same little tree on the front lawn—maybe even the same kind of tree. Same drive way with the snow cleared away and piled up. Same garage with the house number on the front. Different numbers.

  We come to a stop sine but dont stop. The car going the other way honks at us. We roll slowly down the street while Joe reads the numbers.

  We stop in front of the only house on the street with the drive way full of snow.

  This is the place says Joe.

  He zooms the engine. We skid sideways up the curb and bucket forward up the drive way and then stop.

  Come inside Bunny.

  Joes voice is harsher than normal. It is stretched like he is. Everything about him is tite like plastic rap on a bowl.

  Just for a bit he says.

  I dont want to come inside but I have to go to the bathroom so I unbuckle my seat belt and open the car door. Joe puts his hand on my sholder and steers me up the front steps. There is a front door key in the male box.

  The place smells like sickness. You know what I mean. Spencers bedroom smells like that when he has the flu. I dont know what makes the smell. Barf and swet I gess. Sheets and dirty close and pills—no maybe not pills. I take off my skates and think yuck. Its worse down the hall in the bathroom but I have to go so I try not to notice it. I do notice Grampas voice tho—it cuts thru the toilet flushing and me washing my hands.

  Bernard you must hurry.

  I jump enuff to splash water on my pants and socks.

  Grampa? I wisper.

  I cant see where he is. The meer reflects the hole bathroom but Im the only 1 there.

  I turn off the water and dry my hands—and spot the geography magazine on the shelf behind the towels. I havent been to the dentist in a while so I havent seen this one. The front cover has a close up of a wolf staring into the camera. Big yellow eyes serious and sad. The headline reads WILD BUT NOT CRAZY.

  That would be Grampa.

  WE HAVE A BATHROOM CONVERSATION

  —me and the wolf on the cover of the magazine. The toilet runs for a bit and the fan is on so nobody can hear us.

  This house is dangerous for you Bernard.

  Why? I ask.

  The wolfs eyes gleam like they are alive when Grampa is speaking. Then they go back to paper. Gleam and fade—gleam and fade. They gleam now.

  Broz is 1 of them says the wolf.

  One of—

  The Pee Yan Vee Yan national party he says.

  He spits the name like Joe does. And like an old movy clip coming back I remember the hockey game I played back at the Newman house. A mask guy told me he was from a place that sounded like a Pee and a Vee—and so was a player for the Vancouver hockey team. I didnt know if Pee and Vee was a city or a country or what. Now I realize he was talking about Pee Yan Vee Yah. And that the Pee Yan Vee Yah guys are the kid nappers.

  Lots of people are from there I say to Grampa. Just because your from Pee Yan Vee Yah doesnt mean your a kid napper. Joe is a customs officer I say.

  And a lyer. He never called Creekside about you Bernard. He drove past the turnoff to get here.

  Worry worry worry worry worry worry worry worry worry worry.

  He lyed about his phone 2 I say.

  The kid nappers needed a safe place to drive you across the border says Grampa. They new where Joe works. They are a nationalist group called the SPCA.


  That was the name Joe asked me about!

  Hush Bernard! Speak more quietly.

  Sorry I wisper.

  I know the wolf stuff doesnt makes sense. I get that. Its about how much you trust Grampa. Spencer was talking about spying and who Grampa was working for. But I dont care about that. He led me to Adeline. Saving her life is the biggest and best thing Ive done in a long time. Maybe ever. Babys are more important than spy secrets. Take that James Bond. Id rather have Grampa on my side.

  What shuld I do now? I ask him.

  Theres a window behind you. Use it.

  What?

  You promised you would look after yourself Bernard. Keep your promise.

  The cover wolf uses a very Grampa tone of voice. The yellow eyes blaze like fire and then the lite in them goes out. The magazine is just a magazine.

  There is a name on it. The magazine is delivered to Violet Dieters. Whoever that is. This must be her house. The address is in Toronto.

  Holy crap! Grampa was rite—Im way past Creekside.

  I stare at myself in the meer for a second. A big rumply boy with dark hair sticking out and a look of Holy crap! on his face. That’s me all rite.

  I have to stand on the toilet to reach the window. It is small but I can push myself thru the open part even in my coat witch I am still wearing. I am worryed about my feet. I will run faster in socks than in skates—but not for long.

  You probly think I am crazy. Fair enuff. It doesnt make sense that Grampa is helping me from beyond the grave—but sense isnt everything. It doesnt make sense that I found a baby in a gym bag. It doesnt make sense that Aiden Tween is so popular. It doesnt make sense that people smoke cigarets or feed stray cats or kill children or like pickle flavor potato chips—but they do. It doesnt make sense that you are reading this story insted of all the other millions of stories out there. Life isnt about making sense. Its a gift and you do your best with it. Yeah its crazy that Grampa is talking to me but it would also be crazy for me not to pay attention—like saying no to the gift. If you need help and you get help you shuld use the help.

  IT IS AN EASY DROP FROM THE BATHROOM WINDOW

  to the ground and I am out and running. The back yard is covered in a clean sheet of snow. My footprints are huge—a giant smashing his way across the earth. Joe will have no problem following me. I hop over the back fence and keep running. The snow is up to my knees. I run thru to the street. Now the snow is smashed down and you can not tell where Ive been.

  I run up the drive way of the first house and pound on the door.

  Help! I shout.

  The porch lite comes on and I hear noises behind the door. Somebody is there. But they are not opening the door. What they are doing is watching me thru the peep hole.

  Its OK! I shout. I am not dangerous!

  Mind you I am hopping because my feet are cold. I must look weerd. I try again.

  I am not crazy! I shout. Let me in! The Pee Yan Vee Yans are after me!

  That sounds pretty crazy tho doesnt it.

  No wait they really are! Help! Please let me in!

  Nothing. I will have to think of better stuff to yell. No more Pee Yan Vee Yans. Nobody is home at the next house or the 1 after. The house after that has lots of lites up and a mess on the front porch—a broken sled and a mitt and a hat that a kid has dropped. A mom comes to the door when I ring the bell but she will not let me in.

  Go away! she says. Please go away!

  The door is on a chain lock. I can see a strip of her face. She is scared of me—a crazy stranger.

  Im cold! I shout. I have no shoes!

  Her face softens. I can feel her weaken. She is a mom after all.

  Please let me in! I shout. I have to get back to jail!

  The door slams. Drat.

  I am so mad I kick the kids hat off the porch—and find a cell phone lying underneath! Wuld you believe it? It must have fallen out of the moms pocket befor the kid started losing his close. Its the same kind as my phone. I push the start button to turn it on.

  My hart has been on a trampoline trip for the last few minits. Good luck bad luck good luck. Up down up. I escape from Joe—up!—but my feet are freezing—down!—but heres a house with people—up!—but they wont take me in—down!—but heres a cell phone—up! But it doesnt work. I cant turn on the darn thing. I gess theres no power.

  Down.

  I hold out the phone so the mom can see it and ring the bell again. Let me in and I will give it to you! I shout.

  Wait—that sounds nasty.

  Your phone I mean!

  Nothing.

  I slip the broken phone in my pocket and start running. No sidewalks so I head down the middle of the road. My breath steams in the street lites. I try not to think about my feet. I cant. Joe will be looking for me so I have to hurry. I wish I had my skates. I can go faster on skates and they keep my feet warmer.

  I come to a stop sine with a line of 3 or 4 cars. I cant see the people in the cars but they can see me. I stick out my thum like I want to hitch hike. Nothing happens for a second and then 1 of the cars ahead of me honks. The back door opens. I hurry over and slide into the warm.

  Thank you I say to guy in the back seat. He has a scarf over his face. His eyes are wide like he is surprised. Thank you thank you.

  I am bouncing high on the trampoline of good luck.

  I bend over and rub my feet thru my socks. Oh. Oh. Oh that feels good.

  The car takes off and makes a turn. And another.

  I sit up. My name is Bunny I say. Please take me out of here. I need to find a phone. I am going to—

  And then I fall rite off the luck trampoline and land with a thud.

  O crap I say.

  The guy beside me takes off his scarf. His hair is pointy at the front. Its Lubor. Vi is in the front passenger seat. I do not know the driver but he is smiling into the meer and not in a nice way. I am back with the kid nappers.

  When I try to scramble out of the car Lubor grabs me pretty hard.

  No he says.

  With Lubors axent it doesnt sound like the way I say no but thats what he means.

  VI TURNS AROUND.

  The lites from the street and the houses shine off her face. Shes still nice looking. I want to hate her but I cant. Is it because she is pretty? Yes. Yes it is.

  Do you know how long we have been following you? she asks me. All the way from Perivale.

  I dont know the name. Oh wait—I remember now.

  Steves place I say.

  That idiot! says Vi. I don’t know how Lubors mom can work for him. And then to the border and all the way to Toronto. We kept just missing you! You were in the US customs shed just ahead of us and then you escaped. Youve been lucky all day long.

  Lucky? And here I am thinking about my unluck. But I gess Ive been lucky 2. Maybe everybody is lucky and unlucky—it depends on who is looking.

  Vi leans back over the seat and slaps me across the face. It hurts.

  Thats for the flat tires she says.

  Maybe I dont like her so much even tho she is pretty.

  We turn a corner and another and pull up outside the place I ran away from. Joe is outside looking grim. He gets happier when he sees me get out of the car with Lubors hand on my arm. We all go inside the house.

  Joe holds the door open for the driver and then for Vi. Lubor and I go in on our own. Joe and Lubor talk for a while in back-of-the-throat language. I know what they are saying even if I do not know the words. Lubor is mad and Joe is trying to xplain.

  They throw me in a basement room and lock the door.

  SO AFTER ALL MY SKATING AND RUNNING AND HIDING

  I am kid napped again. The room is white and cold and empty xept for a clock on the wall. Thats all there is in the room—a big round 6:01. I have no idea what they use this room for—telling time is all you can do. Now its 6:03. I sit down on the cement floor. After a while my bottom feels cold so I stand up. 6:14. Now my feet feel cold.

  I feel I shuld do somethi
ng. Anything. Waiting for your luck to change is not enuff. Good luck happens when you do something. And if it doesnt happen at least you feel better. 6:16. I throw my sholder against the door. It does not move. I try again—harder. Nope. I try kicking the door. Nothing happens and now my sock foot and my sholder are both sore. Doing something doesnt always make you feel better. 6:19.

  I take the phone I found on the ladys porch out of my coat pocket. It is still not working. I put it in my pants pocket.

  At 6:20 the door opens and Joe walks in with the driver who is smaller and thinner than Joe but more important. Joe stands back and lets him talk.

  So here you are in Toronto Bunny he says. You traveled a long way and nearly escaped but we have you now. It is a long journey for my country also—my poor suffering Pee Yan Vee Yah! And tonite the journey ends he says. Your grampa stole our anthem. Your brother found it. Tonite the world will hear it—and they will weep!

  I gess the anthem is sad. I never cry during our anthem. We stand on gard for the—so what? Also we sing it about 80 times. I want to shout We know! Were going to stand on gard! We get it.

  Not gard—something else. Gaurd maybe or guard—but that just looks wrong. Yes wrong. English is harder than it has to be. The driver has a wispy beerd and long hair and talks like Lubor only more so. He reminds me of somebody.

  You must phone him he says to me.

  Phone—

  Your brother. Tell him you are in our power and he must do what we want. You will do it now.

  The driver punches a number on his sell phone and hands it to me. I finally realize what is going on—what has been going on all along. These guys from Pee Yan Vee Yah are kid napping me so that Spencer will do something for them!

  What do you want my brother to do? I ask. The phone is ringing in my ear.

  He knows what to do says the driver. Talk to him. Let him hear your voice.

  Who does the driver remind me of?