by Carrie Mac
“If you’re not family, ma’am,” the taller of the two said, “I’m afraid we can’t let you do that.”
Alice got right into her face and roared, “You let me ride with that little girl or I will put up such a stink you won’t know what hit you!”
The shorter attendant nodded to the other and the two relented, stepping aside so Alice could climb in.
Zoe picked up April’s jacket and one of her boots. On the ground beside the boot was one of Beck’s eight ball matchbooks. It had one match left. Zoe lit it, letting the flame burn down to her fingertips as she headed back to the car behind Cassy and Harris.
“Those kids hassle you too?” Harris asked after several blocks of silence.
“Not anymore,” Zoe said.
“They give you any more trouble, you come tell me.” He glanced at her in the dark.
“You won’t be here to do anything about it.” Zoe didn’t bother keeping her tone civil. “You live in Whitehorse, remember?”
April’s parents beat Harris and Zoe to the hospital and were in with April and the doctors by the time they got there. Alice was sitting with Lewis in the waiting room. Lewis was driving one of his cars across the orange vinyl benches that lined the room.
“You can’t go in there.” He nodded gravely at the Emergency room’s swinging doors. “I can’t neither. April’s broken.”
“She’s not broken, hon.” Alice pulled him to her. “She’s hurt.”
“Mommy cried,” Lewis reported to Zoe.
“How is she?” Zoe asked. She laid Cassy, who’d fallen asleep in the car, on a wide corner bench and covered her with her jacket.
“Bad,” Alice mouthed over Lewis’s head. Then she said, “Oh, she’ll be just fine.”
They waited for hours. Leaf joined them, after a tearful phone call from Zoe. A while later Simon and Teo arrived. They’d just come back from Christmas dinner at Simon’s father’s house in Vancouver and had got the frantic message from his mother. Alice took Lewis and Cassy home to bed around nine, despite Lewis’s protests that Santa wouldn’t know where to find him. Teo bought coffees from the vending machine, and the four of them sat, bleary-eyed, waiting.
Just after ten, Barb emerged, still wearing the snowman apron she’d had on when she’d answered the phone earlier.
“She’ll be okay,” she nodded. “Thank the good Lord. She’ll be okay.”
The four of them stared at her, waiting for more.
“She’s got a lot of stitches.” Barb wound and unwound an apron tie around her finger. “Too many to count. Her arm’s broken. And they need to get in there to fix her knee, something with the ligaments, but that’ll happen later on. She’ll be fine though. Nothing that won’t heal with prayer and time.”
“That’s great,” Leaf said with a lack of conviction they all felt.
“Yeah.” Simon picked at a loose thread on his shirt. “That’s really great.”
“Thanks be to God,” Barb said. She looked at each of the four of them and then slumped into the seat beside Zoe.
“She won’t say who did this to her!” She started weeping.
Zoe put a hand on Barb’s shoulder and eyed the boys. They could tell, but why hadn’t April? It was the perfect opportunity. The Beckoners would be charged with assault; the police would actually be able to do something. But did she have a reason? They owed it to her to check with her before they said anything, didn’t they?
Leaf didn’t think so. He eyeballed the others, mouthing, “We have to tell.”
When Barb went back in to April, the four of them discussed the matter, or rather, the three of them convinced Leaf to wait until they talked to April before they told anyone. They weren’t allowed to see her that night though, so Teo drove everyone home, with plans to pick them up at nine so they could see her first thing.
The hospital was very quiet Christmas morning. April was awake. She was sitting up, eating porridge, the five other beds in the room empty.
“Anything else hurts to chew,” she said as a greeting.
“You okay?” Simon said.
“I guess.”
“Does it hurt?” Teo asked.
“All over.”
There was an awkward silence. The three of them looked at Zoe. They’d flipped a coin in the car to see who would ask her why she hadn’t told about the Beckoners. Zoe had lost, but she didn’t want to ask her yet. April looked too bruised to think.
Leaf eyeballed Zoe. Zoe shook her head.
“Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll do it. Why didn’t you tell the cops who did it?”
“Beck said she’d kill me if I told.”
Simon sat on the edge of the bed and took her good hand lightly in his. “You have to tell, April.”
April shook her head. “No.”
“You’re going to let them get away with this?” Leaf started pacing. “You could be dead! They could’ve killed you! You want to be another Reena Virk?”
“I’m not going to tell.”
There was no convincing her to tell. Teo and Simon and Leaf spent nearly an hour trying to convince her otherwise, but Zoe didn’t try very hard. She didn’t doubt that the Beckoners would kill her. When April’s parents and Lewis showed up, arms loaded with presents, the four of them left, walking silently back to Blouise.
In the end, it was Leaf who told. He just picked up the phone, dialed the police and told them who did it. It took less than a minute. He was proud of himself, and so was Wish, who was the one who convinced him to do it with or without April’s consent. Teo was happy about it; he hadn’t slept well in the two days since the attack. Simon was uneasy about it. Zoe was downright terrified, as was April.
When Leaf confessed what he’d done, April shook her head. She was too mad to cry. Too scared. Too sore.
“Do you believe in God?” she asked him.
“No.”
“You don’t?”
“No, I don’t.”
April closed her eyes and laid back on the pillows. “Could you pray anyway?”
For several days there was no word from the Beckoners, no sign, no hint at retribution, which Leaf took to mean they’d been scared off for good, now that the cops were involved. April’s parents insisted on pressing charges, although April tried to talk them out of it. They would not listen to her pleas to let it go.
“You’re safe now, April,” her father told her as they helped her out of the car the day she was released from the hospital. “It’s all over.”
The first time April left the house after coming home from the hospital was to go with Zoe and Leaf and Simon and Teo to Simon’s house for a New Year’s Eve tea party, hosted by his chic public relations mother and her slick marketing exec boyfriend, both of whom thought that Simon being gay was quaint and having him and his “little friends” there would add “panache” to the party. None of them felt particularly panache-ful that day. April was trying to give Leaf the silent treatment, but she wasn’t very good at it. It was more of a cold shoulder, which Leaf understood and was gracious about, which kind of made giving him the cold shoulder pointless. Teo and Simon had had a fight before leaving, because Teo hadn’t wanted to go at all.
“I feel like a gay poster boy,” he said as he yanked at his tie. “I hate that your mother calls me your ‘Nice Gay Boyfriend from Puerto Rico.’”
“Well, you are my nice gay boyfriend.” Simon tried to sooth him before they went in.
“My family’s been in this country for two generations, Simon.”
Furthermore, Shadow was not allowed to come to the party. For April, the worst part about being in the hospital was being separated from Shadow. It was the first time in all her life she hadn’t slept with him. When she came home, Shadow lived up to his name even more than usual. He never once left her side. When April ordered him to stay behind when they left her house on New Year’s Day, no one could have guessed it would be the last time April would see him alive.
The party was barely tolerable. The five o
f them were on their best behavior, making polite small talk, avoiding people’s indiscreet questions about April’s injuries. They tugged at their fancy clothes and tried hard not to spill anything in the strictly white décor house. And then Teo “accidentally” spilled a glass of red wine—Simon’s mother considered it cosmopolitan to let them drink—on the delicate lacy drapes, which is when Simon announced, in a huff, that it was time to leave. Leaf and Zoe and April glumly pulled on their coats and hurried through the rain ahead of Simon and Teo, who were stuck arguing in the middle of the driveway, oblivious to the downpour.
Barb rushed down the walk when they pulled up to April’s. She wasn’t wearing a jacket and she was soaked to the bone, her thin curls plastered flat against her forehead. The wide straps of her bra and the outline of her cross showed through her wet tracksuit top.
“I can’t find Shadow!”
April scrambled out of the car with her crutches. “What do you mean?”
“After you left, I put him out to pee and when I opened the door to let him back in, he was gone. The gate was open. Lewis must’ve left it open. But he’s never taken off before, not even if it was wide open. For heaven’s sake, the stupid old thing is probably out looking for you.”
“No, he’s not. He wouldn’t leave. Shadow!” April hobbled down the path, whistling for him. “Shadow, here boy!”
“We’ll look in the other direction!” Simon hollered after her as Teo turned Blouise around.
They drove slowly up and down the streets around Paradise Heights, silent except for the wush-wush of the windshield wipers, and to take turns calling for Shadow every block or so. Shadow had vanished. Zoe asked everyone they saw if they’d seen the old black dog, but it was getting dark and there weren’t many people out. Those that were were huddled behind umbrellas tilted into the icy wind; all they could see was their feet. They searched for two and a half hours, doubling back after an hour to collect April, who was shaking with cold and sobbing uncontrollably.
“It was them!” She wiped another spot in the fogged up window with her sleeve. “It was the Beckoners. I know it. Shadow wouldn’t leave on his own.”
“What if he saw another dog?” Leaf said.
“Or he thought he saw you?” Teo offered.
“He waits on the mat by the front door.” April shook her head. “He doesn’t budge until I come home. The farthest he goes without me is to the curb to watch for me after school. That’s it. Even if you dangled a steak in front of him, he wouldn’t go anywhere without me.”
Back at April’s, Zoe called Janika’s on the off chance that she could convince her to tell her if they knew anything about Shadow’s disappearance. There was no answer. There was no answer at Beck’s either. Heather’s little brother picked up when she phoned Heather’s house, but when she asked to speak to Heather, he said she wasn’t there and neither was Beck or anybody, although Zoe would swear later that she heard voices in the background.
Zoe, Leaf, Simon and Teo sat on April’s bed while she wept and sobbed and moaned. Simon kept apologizing for being allergic to dogs, even though nobody thought for one minute that his allergies made it his fault. Even if he weren’t allergic, Shadow would never have been allowed in Simon’s immaculate house anyway. Lewis sat in the doorway, apologizing for leaving the gate open, although they all knew it wasn’t his fault either. Leaf offered an apology too, for telling the cops. No one argued with him on that one.
The guys grew restless, perched on the bed, knees jiggling, not sure what to do with themselves, except for Simon who rubbed April’s back and told her everything was going to be fine, which probably wasn’t the best idea and not at all true.
Finally, they left, mumbling long, drawn-out good-byes, lingering in the doorway with their hands in their pockets like someone had died. Zoe told them she’d call if Shadow came back, or if they heard anything from any of the posters they’d hastily put up. Zoe phoned Alice and told her she was sleeping over, and then Lewis came up to tell the girls that dinner was ready. No coaxing in the world could get April to go down, not even for a cup of hot tea. She was still wearing the clothes she’d worn all day, and they were damp and clinging to her cold skin. Zoe put a blanket over her and went downstairs to eat.
The next morning, it was Zoe who saw him first, when she got up to go pee. On the way back from the bathroom, she sleepily pulled aside the curtain, hoping to see snow. It was still raining, a bleak drizzle through the early morning haze hovering low over the roofs. Then she looked down. At first she didn’t register what she was looking at, but her heart did. Her pulse quickened. She felt suddenly dizzy. Something was hanging from the apple tree. A garbage bag? A dark heavy jacket thrown over the fence? A stuffed animal?
It was Shadow, hanging from a rope around his neck, a noose, tied to the same thick branch the mannequin had been hung from. Zoe stared at him for a moment, paws limp, nose pointing to the ground, like there was something interesting there he wanted to get to and if she went out into the rain and cut him down, he’d bee-line for it, tail wagging. Zoe sank to the floor, heart racing.
April was still asleep, lying on her side, quilt pulled up under her chin, one arm clutching her pillow, knees bent out of habit, making the space Shadow had curled up in almost every night of his life, space for her best friend in the whole wide miserably unfriendly world, her best friend who was now softly swaying outside in the cold dank rain, dead.
Zoe didn’t wake her. Instead, she crept down the hall and knocked softly on Barb and John’s door.
“For heaven’s sake, Lewis.” Barb’s voice was gravelly with sleep. “It’s not locked.”
Zoe hesitated, and then opened the door.
“Oh, Zoe. What’s wrong?” Barb lumbered off the bed and into her robe. “Are you sick? Is it April?”
Zoe stood in the doorway, stunned silent, drinking in the stale perfume of the room: Barb’s apple soap, John’s spicy cologne that before had seemed so cloying but now was an elixir. She wanted to shut the door and lock the three of them in and never leave that place. She wanted to crawl between them, go to sleep, and wake up five years old with these plain, solid, faithful people as her parents. People who make their kids eat whole wheat bread and carrot sticks, parents who limit how much TV their kids watch. Parents who’d get their lonely misfit kid a dog in the first place. Parents who’d let that dog sleep with the kid, even if he did shed all over, even if he did start to stink something awful as he got old.
“It’s Shadow,” Zoe said. “You better come.”
Zoe led Barb downstairs. The two of them stood at the patio door, gazing through the rain at the dog. Barb clutched her cross and cried. Zoe stood there, shivering, until Barb caught her breath and managed to speak.
“I don’t want her to see.” Zoe almost sighed with relief at Barb’s firm decisive tone. “We won’t say a word. Not even to John. They can think he ran away, or got hit by a car. Sweet Jesus, anything but this.”
Wordlessly, Zoe followed Barb as she collected shears, a step stool, and a big blue tarp to wrap him in. They’d just stepped out into the rain, both of them in yellow ambulance-issue slickers, when they heard April. They looked up. April was standing, or had just been standing, at her window. Her scream shook the suspended morning, its heartrending force pushing the fog towards the mountains, the rain back up the valley, the clouds back to sea. By the time they got upstairs, by the time Barb sank to the floor and took April in her arms, the sky was a cloudless blue, the cold winter sun peeking over the snow-capped mountains of a brand new year.
the plan
Leaf came over to help John take Shadow down. Barb was still upstairs with April, Lewis had been hurriedly steered out the front door to the neighbors, still in his pajamas, his father’s large hands acting as blinders, but still, they whispered. Who would cut the rope? Who would hold his weight? Where they would put him once they got him down?
First though, John called the police. He walked ever so slowly to the phone, like it w
as ten miles away rather than ten steps. He spoke softly, calmly to the police, and then he went upstairs to pray with Barb and April until the cops arrived. He’d invited Leaf and Zoe to join them, but Leaf had shook his head for the both of them. They sat huddled on the couch, backs to the window. In the quiet, Zoe could hear John’s deep voice intoning upstairs in April’s room, pleading with God. Every once in a while Barb’s voice would join in for an “Amen,” or “Sweet Jesus.”
“They want a miracle?” Leaf glanced up at the ceiling again. “It’s a miracle she hasn’t killed herself already, with everything those assholes put her through.”
When Leaf said that, Zoe’s mind cleared for a sharp, focused second, and then the idea came, complete and brilliant.
“You’re absolutely right.” She lifted his arm off her shoulder and sat up. “It’s perfect.”
“What?”
“She did.”
“Did what?”
“She did kill herself.”
“What are you talking about, Zoe?”
“Listen,” she grabbed his knee. “Listen to me. After she found Shadow this morning, she hung herself, and she left a note naming the Beckoners, blaming the Beckoners.” Zoe stood up and began to pace. “Those girls in Mission were charged after that happened there last year. It’s brilliant!”
Upstairs the praying was getting louder. John was on his feet, pacing in time with his prayer, his step extra heavy whenever he called out, “Jesus!” And then, all of a sudden, April was at the foot of the stairs. Leaf scrambled over the back of the couch and yanked the curtains shut. Until that moment, it had seemed inappropriate to close them, like they’d be shutting Shadow out, as if he’d done something wrong.
“My dad’s on a roll.” April pointed to the chandelier shuddering over the dining room table. “He started out praying for me, and for Shadow. But now he’s praying for the Beckoners. I couldn’t stand it.” She sat on the bottom step, her good hand held tight between her knees.
“We have an idea.” Zoe sat beside her and explained it all.
