The Wolf and Me: The Seven Sequels

by Richard Scrimger

  I dont have any money for a taxi I say.

  Dont worry about that—Herb will help anyone from the possy says Jade.

  The firework show is finishing up. Spears of gold shoot up to the sky. Balls of fire explode into blu and green and red and orange flower petals that float down and disappear while claps and barks echo and fade. In the distance I hear the first of the sirens. The police are coming.

  HERB DOESNT BELIEVE WHO I AM RITE AWAY

  but when I unzip my coat and pull up my shirt sleeve to show him my 15 Street tatoo he lets me into the cab.

  Man you dont look like you belong he says.

  I know.

  Jade says to come down to the Princes Gates and pick up 1 of the possy I am not looking for you he says.

  I know.

  Herb drives off without any more questions. He doesnt ask about the cows or the sirens or anything. If I am in the possy I am okay. For the first time in days I feel power full. The hole possy is behind me—Jade and Cobra and Scratch and Snocone and X-Ray and now Herb. His hair stands up like black fingers on his head. He wears driving gloves that fit tite. The cab smells spicy. We go along the lake and then up a hill into the city. When we meet the ambulances Herb pulls over to let them past. He pulls over again when we meet the police cars and the fire truck. I ask Herb how he is doing tonite and he says fine.

  Spencer is not at city hall. The concert is over and the big square is almost empty. Its late and outside and the middle of winter. There is a stage off to the side and posters of Aiden Tween are flapping in the wind. Even from a distance I can see the capital letters. AT. The clock in the tall tower across the street bongs the time. 1 bong—1 oclock.

  I dont know what to do so I go back to the cab witch is waiting by the curb. Herb reaches to the seat beside him and hands me a bag.

  This is for you he says. Jade told me youd need them.

  What? I say.

  There my brothers he says. He wore them last year but hes 2 big for them now.

  In the bag theres a pair of running shoes.

  Jade said to get you a pair of shoes and go pick you up says Herb.

  Wow I say.

  Thats all. Wow. I dont know what else to say. Its thank you and you didnt have to and holy crap all at once. Herb waves it away.

  My feet are recked. Wrecked. Ive been wearing rental skates all week. Now Im back where I rented them. I left my boots under a bench—theyll be long gone. I want to put on the runners—but not quite yet.

  Wait another minit I tell Herb. This rink is still open. Can you wait a minit?

  Your 15 he says. I do what you tell me. You want me to wait I wait. You want to drive to Vancoover I do that.

  What?

  Take a few days but I can do it.

  Hes serious.

  OK then give me a minit I say.

  I hop my way over to the rink and do a lap. Push. Glide. Push. The ice is pretty good but my skates are so dull I slip a lot. I feel like crying but I cant do it. My chest heaves in and out but what comes out is a laff. Maybe I am 2 tired to cry and when you cant cry you laff insted. Its been a long week.

  The Aiden Tween song playing on the sound system stops in the middle. Hey you dancing in the corner by yourself dont look so sad its not so—the lites go out 1 by 1. Now the rink is in darkness. An old guy comes out of the rental place. I go over and hand him my skates. He takes them and looks at them a long time.

  These he says. Number 13.

  Yeah.

  These been gone for days he says. Where you find them?

  On my feet.

  What?

  I turn away.

  Wait a minit he says. But I am already gone in my new runners witch fit ok. A little long maybe but way better than socks. And maybe I will grow into them.

  HERB IS LISTENING TO THE NEWS ON THE CAR RADIO

  and shaking his head.

  Crazy! he says.

  What is?

  What they say about the accident with all the cows he says.

  We head along Queen Street. I take out the phone I have been using—the 1 from the front porch—and once again it doesnt work. I wonder if it is frozen? I had it in my outside coat pocket again. Maybe that was the problem befor.

  I give Herb my address on Tecumseth. My home address. I can see it in my mind written out on an envelope cause I send a letter home every week. I dont know if anyone is there or not. Would Herb drive me to Creekside now if I asked? Would I ask?

  I recognize all the stores we pass. Traffic is lite.

  Whats that about the accident? I say.

  Herb says something I dont catch xept for the last word.

  Wolf? I say.

  What the truck driver told the police says Herb. Says he saw this wolf run up from the lake and cross the lakeshore road rite in front of him. He jammed on the brakes so he wuldnt run into it. The truck skidded and crashed and the cows got out. Drivers fine but the truck and 2 cars are a mess and 3 people are in hospital. And all because of a wolf.

  I cant help myself. I start laffing again. Is it as easy as that—is Grampa looking after me? Is that how I got home? Cause if its that easy why am I so tired? We turn down our street.

  Herb looks at me like—Whats so funny? But he doesnt ask any questions.

  Theres a lite in an upstares window at my place. I see a shadow for a second and then its gone.

  Herb holds up a box of kleenex he keeps on the dash. I take a few.

  Thanks I say. My voice cracks and I try again. Thanks.

  I wipe away the tears.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  A book is a team effort—writer, muse, agent, editorial, sales and marketing, publicity, to say nothing of friends and family and so on. But the Seven series has been a team effort from the writing point of view as well. I am deeply grateful to all my co-authors, certainly Eric Walters for providing the initial spark, but also and especially to Ted Staunton for his great work on our goofy interwoven plots. A lot of the success of the series has been author driven. Guys and Norah, it has been a pleasure to hang out with you across Canada this past year, and I look forward to doing it again. And let’s not forget the Orca publishing team—Andrew, Sarah, Dayle and all the others who didn’t buy me dinner, who didn’t check my spelling eleven million times and whose shower I did not break. Thank you.

  RICHARD SCRIMGER is the award-winning author of twenty books for children and adults. His middle-school novel The Nose from Jupiter won the Mr. Christie’s Award, and his books have appeared on the Globe and Mail’s and ALA’s notable-books lists. His books have been translated into almost a dozen languages (actually, eleven). The father of four, Richard is used to being laughed at. The Wolf and Me is the sequel to Ink Me, Richard’s novel in Seven (the series).