My heart was hammering away like crazy. “Maybe you should just leave town,” I suggested. “Leave town and leave Victoria alone. Because if anything happens to her, I’ll know exactly who’s responsible. And believe me, your family may keep bailing you out, but I’d have no problem going straight to the cops.” I winced. Thraight to the copth.
Rick didn’t seem to notice. He ran his hands over his shaved head and looked a bit lost, like he had no idea how he ended up in this situation and no clue what to do or say next.
Victoria looked up at him and wiped her eyes. “Maybe you could get some help,” she whispered.
“You think I haven’t tried that a hundred times before?” He looked down at Victoria, and I thought I saw his face soften a tiny bit. “This is for real, Vicky? You can’t do those things anymore?”
“For real,” she said, sniffing.
Rick held her eyes for a long moment, like he was trying to figure out if she was telling him the truth. Finally he shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t matter whether you can’t help me or you won’t help me.”
Victoria looked at him and her voice was almost a whisper. “I have to go.”
“Okay, whatever. Go then.” He hesitated and then, just as we turned to leave, he called her name. “Victoria! Look, what you said about me not caring about you… you know that’s not true, don’t you?”
She shrugged. “That’s how it feels.”
Rick kicked at an empty bottle and swore under his breath. “Nah. That’s not right.” I watched the emotions flicker across his face and for the first time I thought I caught a glimpse of the big brother Victoria used to be so crazy about. Maybe even still was.
He hesitated for a second, like he might say something more, but then he just turned and stomped away without looking back.
Back inside the gallery, everyone was still milling around looking at Mom’s paintings. I pulled Victoria into the empty kitchen and we sat shivering side by side on the floor.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “He said he just wanted to talk. I didn’t think he’d try anything like that.”
I leaned forward, trying to see her face, but she was staring down at the floor. “Are you okay?”
“Not really.”
“You know I was bluffing about you being a fake,” I told her quickly. “I just thought if we could make him believe it, maybe he’d leave you alone.”
She looked up at me, teary-eyed. “Does that mean you do believe me? That I’m really telekinetic?”
I hesitated. “I wasn’t sure, at first. I wanted it to be true, but it’s pretty hard to believe, you know?” I tried to read her expression, to gauge if she was mad at me. “To be honest, I did wonder if you might be making it all up. But I kind of decided it didn’t matter if you could do it. I wanted to be friends either way.”
“I can’t do it,” she whispered, not looking at me. “When I was trying to teach you, I tried at home a couple of times, with small things, and I couldn’t do it. Nothing happened.”
I remembered all the hours I’d spent staring at imaginary green energy. “So you’ve just been laughing at me all along? Thinking it would be funny to make me believe it?”
“No! I wasn’t laughing. I wanted to tell you the truth. I just couldn’t, somehow.” She shook her head miserably. “Cassidy? I don’t want you to be mad at me. And I really did think you might be able to learn to do it yourself.”
“I’m not mad exactly. Mostly confused. I mean, if you aren’t telekinetic, why was Rick trying to…why did he…?”
“Oh, I really could do stuff when I was younger. But it caused so much trouble with Rick and everything that I stopped doing it. Even then, sometimes, if I got mad or upset, things just happened and I didn’t have control over them. It was scary.”
“So that part was true then?” I felt a little better, somehow, knowing it hadn’t all been lies. “Why do you think it stopped working?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe because I didn’t want it to work, or maybe because I didn’t practice? Or maybe just because I’m older.” She twisted a short lock of hair around her finger. “I shouldn’t have let you go on thinking I could do it.”
“No, you shouldn’t.” I sucked on my bottom lip and tried to be fair. “Though I guess me being so excited about it probably didn’t make it any easier for you to tell me.”
She nodded gratefully. “Yeah, I really wanted to be friends.”
“Yeah, well, me too, but not only because of that.” I thought of something else. “Wait a minute though. That day in class, a few weeks ago, with Mr. McMaran?”
“I don’t know. I’ve thought and thought about it.”
I remembered the expression on her face—the reason I had suspected she was doing something in the first place. Magic, I’d thought. “You looked like you were concentrating so hard.”
“I was so angry. I was trying to make something happen. The way I used to be able to when I was younger.”
“So did you?”
“Honestly, I don’t know exactly.” She sighed. “I thought I did, maybe. I mean, I got mad and then all that stuff happened. But I guess I just wanted to believe I could still do it.” She looked at me and made a face. “I couldn’t have written that stuff on the board. I’m awful at math.”
“I did wonder about that,” I admitted, starting to laugh.
She giggled. “I guess it is sort of funny.” Then she turned serious again. “The last time I did anything, you know, unusual, was over a year ago. Before we moved here. Since then, nothing at all. Believe me, I’ve tried. I really can’t do it anymore.”
I stopped laughing and looked sideways at her. “Do you mind much?”
“No.” She made a face. “Not too much, anyway. It’s kind of a relief.”
I sighed. “I still think it would be amazing, being able to do something like that.”
“Cassidy?” Victoria’s breath caught. “Do you mind a lot? That I can’t do it, I mean?”
“Just that you lied to me,” I said. “I was going crazy, trying to figure out whether you were really telekinetic, and trying to learn it myself, and feeling guilty that I doubted you sometimes.”
There was a long silence. Victoria’s cheeks were pink and her eyes were teary. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t know why I did. I guess being telekinetic has always been this really big part of who I am and when it stopped working, well, I sort of didn’t know who I was anymore.”
“I would have liked you anyway.”
She ignored me. “And then you suspected that I’d done something magic…”
“Yeah.”
Victoria’s voice was so low I had to strain to hear her. “I wanted us to be friends. I wanted you to think I was special.”
I swallowed. There was a lump in my throat. “Newsflash,” I said gruffly. “You are special.”
Just then, the door to the coffee shop opened and Victoria’s mother stepped in.
“Victoria? Are you okay? I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
Victoria scrambled to her feet. “I know, I heard you call us. I should have told you but I—”
Her mother looked pale and worried, the dark frames of her glasses standing out against her skin. “Are you all right? You look like you’ve been crying.”
She nodded slowly. “Yeah, well, there are some things I have to tell you.”
Her mom raised her eyebrows. “I guess there must be.”
“I’ll see you at school,” Victoria told me. “Tell your mom I’m sorry I couldn’t stay for the whole show.” Then she took her mom’s hand, and the two of them disappeared through the door into the coffee shop.
Twenty-Seven
Finally the last few people straggled out the doors, and the gallery was empty and quiet.
“Right,” Mom said. “I’ve kept you kids up well past your bedtime. Let’s go home and hit the sack.” She glanced around. “Is Victoria in the kitchen?”
Explanation time. “She
’s gone home with her mother,” I said. I looked up at her and my stomach tightened. “Mom? There’s some things I want to tell you.” I looked at Ben and Sydney, who were yawning widely and rubbing their eyes. “A lot of things. But it can wait until tomorrow.” I frowned. “If you have time?”
Mom smiled and stroked my hair ever so softly. “Honey…I’ve got all day.”
I figured we might need it.
Victoria and I played phone tag on the weekend but didn’t end up talking until Monday morning. I saw her heading across the schoolyard and ran over to meet her.
“So? How did it go with your mom? Did you tell her about meeting Rick?”
She grinned; then she cocked her head to one side and looked thoughtful. “She was nowhere near as mad as I thought she’d be. And she told my dad everything and they didn’t fight about it.” She shrugged. “So that’s good, I guess.”
“Tell me you’re not grounded for life.”
She shook her head. “It was stupid of me to agree to meet Rick there, but it turned out to be a good thing. He knows I’m not going to help him, so I don’t think he’ll come after me anymore.”
It was the answer I’d been hoping for, but she didn’t look happy. “Are you okay?” I asked. “Aren’t you relieved that it’s over?”
She nodded; then she sighed. “It’s just sad, you know? He’s so screwed up.”
I remembered that brief moment in the alley when Rick suddenly went from looking scary to looking lost, and I thought of that photograph in Victoria’s dining room of the smiling freckled-faced boy. It was sad, really sad, and there was nothing I could say that would change that.
Ms. Allyson looked more serious than usual when we all filed into the classroom that morning. She waited for the screeching and scraping of desks to stop and the chatter to die down before she spoke.
“This will be my last week with you all,” she said. “Mr. McMaran will be returning next Monday.”
My heart sank, and the classroom erupted in a chorus of protests. Joe Cicarelli raised his hand and spoke without waiting to be called on. “No offence,” he said, “but that sucks.”
Joe was wearing a new T-shirt. It read, Work is for Mortals. He looked up as I was reading it and winked at me. “Nice shirt,” I mouthed, and he grinned back.
Ms. Allyson shook her head. Maybe it was my imagination, but her curls didn’t seem to have their usual bounce and her eyes looked a bit shinier than they should. “I’m sad about it too,” she admitted. “You’ve been a great class, and I’ve enjoyed being here. But give Mr. McMaran a chance. You might be surprised.”
I remembered what Mom had said about his wife dying in a car accident and how he was in pain all the time. It was strange: it didn’t make me like him any more, and it certainly didn’t make him a better teacher, but it did make him seem more like a real person. Kind of like meeting Amber’s parents. I knew I’d think about them whenever I saw Amber or Tyler. It was a lot harder to hate people when you knew more about them.
I wondered if Mr. McMaran would take all the pictures down again. Maybe if we all stuck together as a class, he’d listen to us. Then again, maybe not.
All I knew was that sometimes things didn’t turn out the way you expected. A few weeks ago, I was Cathidy Thilver, school freak with no friends. And now look at me: If I made any more friends, I wouldn’t have enough fingers to count them on.
On Friday, Victoria showed up at school with a huge grin on her face.
I looked at her glumly. “Quit smiling. It’s a day of mourning here at Parkside.” I’d worn all black: black jeans and a black jacket over a plain black T-shirt. No words, out of respect for the sadness of the occasion. I’d brought my Nobody Knows I’m Elvis shirt as a good-bye gift for Ms. Allyson. I figured she would appreciate it.
I made a face at Victoria. “It’s the last day of freedom and learning and—”
“Hush,” she said, giggling. “Guess what?”
“What?”
She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled something out.
“A postcard?”
“From Rick.” She handed it to me. “From Vancouver. He’s moved out west.”
I took the postcard from her: A bunch of orca whales jumping out of the water with snowy mountains in the background. I flipped it over and read out loud: “Dear Vicky, Sorry if I upset you the other day. Decided your smart-mouthed friend was right and it was time for a fresh start. Wish me luck, Rick.”
She was nodding and smiling.
“Your smart-mouthed friend?” I repeated. “He called me smart-mouthed?”
“Isn’t it great though? I hope he really can get a fresh start out there.”
“Me too,” I said. I meant it, but I wasn’t going to hold my breath waiting for him to get it together. Mostly I was just glad that he was two thousand miles away.
When the bell rang at three twenty, I hung back.
Ms. Allyson stood beside her desk, smiling. “Cassidy.”
All of sudden I felt kind of stupid. She wouldn’t want my old T-shirt. I fumbled in my briefcase anyway and pulled it out, neatly folded and in a plastic bag. “It’s my Elvis shirt. I thought maybe you might like to have it.” I shrugged, embarrassed. “It’s clean. I mean, I washed it and everything.” Duh.
Her face lit up. “Really? Are you sure?” She walked over to me, took the bag, pulled the T-shirt out and held it up against herself. “I love it. And it’ll fit too. Thank you so much.”
“No problem.” I hesitated. “It’s been really nice having you as a teacher.”
She smiled. “I meant every word I said about your writing, you know. I hope you’ll keep it up.”
I nodded. “I will.”
“Good.”
“Well, I guess I’ll see you around,” I said, taking a step backward.
“Wait a minute.” She opened her desk drawer. “I have something for you too.”
I blushed. “Um, you don’t have to give me something just because I gave you an old T-shirt.”
“No, no. I know that. Hold on a sec.” She pulled out a book. “I want you to have this.”
I held out my hand and took it. It was a red leather notebook filled with lined pages. “For me to write in?”
She nodded. “Yes. Exactly.”
Outside, the sun was shining. The temperature had crept up above zero and was hovering there. The snow was melting, and I could hear the dripping and tinkling of water running into the gutters. I sat down on the bottom step, opened the notebook and traced the faint blue lines with my fingertip. The book was so beautiful it was hard to bring myself to write in it. I didn’t know where to start. I sat there for a moment, feeling the sun’s warmth on my face. Then I started writing. I began in the same place I’d begun before. Who is Cassidy Silver? I studied the words for a moment, and then I grinned. I am, I wrote. I am Cassidy Silver.
Robin Stevenson grew up in England and Ontario, and now lives in Victoria, BC. She is the author of several other novels for children and teens, including Out of Order, Dead In the Water and Big Guy. More information about Robin is available on her website: www.robinstevenson.com.
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