by Daphne Greer
Maxed Out
Daphne Greer
ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS
Copyright © 2012 Daphne Greer
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Greer, Daphne
Maxed out [electronic resource] / Daphne Greer.
(Orca currents)
Electronic monograph.
Issued also in print format.
ISBN 978-1-55469-983-4 (PDF).--ISBN 978-1-55469-984-1 (EPUB)
I. Title. II. Series: Orca currents (Online)
PS8613.R4452M39 2012 JC813’.6 C2011-907575-X
First published in the United States, 2012
Library of Congress Control Number: 2011942585
Summary: Twelve-year-old Max struggles to manage a grieving mother, a special-needs brother and a desire to play hockey.
Orca Book Publishers is dedicated to preserving the environment and has printed this book on paper certified by the Forest Stewardship Council®.
Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.
Cover photography by Dreamstime.com
Author photo by Sharon Alexander
ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS
PO Box 5626, Stn. B PO Box 468
Victoria, BC Canada Custer, WA USA
V8R 6S4 98240-0468
www.orcabook.com
Printed and bound in Canada.
15 14 13 12 • 4 3 2 1
To Michael Rodriguez, who brings sunshine
and light to everyone he meets.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Author Notes
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
The sound of the back door banging against the side of the house pounds in my ears. Maybe I am only hearing my heart beating in my chest as I pick up my pace. I trudge up the driveway with my sleeping bag hanging over my shoulder. I kick snow away from the step.
“Mom!” I yell. “I’m home.”
The house is quiet. I dump my back-pack on the floor and flick my boots off. The cold air has made a home in the kitchen. I can see my breath. Dishes are piled in the sink, and breakfast stuff is still all over the counter. When I walk down the hall, I glance into the living room. It looks like time has stopped. Mom doesn’t go in there much anymore. It used to be her favorite place.
At the bottom of the stairs, I stop to listen. I’m relieved when I hear Duncan talking to himself in his room. It sounds like he is acting out all the characters in a movie. When I reach the landing, I notice Mom’s bedroom door is closed.
I take a deep breath and knock. “Mom?”
I can hear her stirring, so I open the door. She is lying in bed with heaps of blankets piled all over her. “Oh, Max. You’re home. I didn’t hear you come in.” She tries to sit up, but she only gets as far as propping herself onto her elbows before she flops back down. She pulls the blankets up to her neck. “It’s freezing in here. Can you check the heat?” She yawns and then says, “What time is it?”
“I don’t know. Probably close to four. The bus was a little late.”
“Did you say four? That can’t be right! I only laid down for a few minutes. Oh, I can’t believe it!” She looks like she’s about to cry. “I have to work tonight, and I feel like a truck hit me.”
“I’ll go check the heat,” I say. I don’t bother telling her that the back door was wide open or that I had a great time at the school winter-survival trip at Big Cove Camp. I don’t tell her about making banana boats around the campfire, like we used to do with Dad, or how we stayed up late telling ghost stories. No one wanted to go home— especially me.
The next morning I’m in a rush. I’m still not used to having to do everything by myself.
“Duncan!” I yell up the stairs. “Turn off the tv. We’re going to be late!” I wait at the the bottom of the stairs for a few more minutes. Duncan is deep into one of his movies. I shake my head and walk back toward the kitchen. The sun floods in through the window, making it really warm.
Duncan eventually shuffles into the kitchen with his Spider-Man T-shirt on backward and his hair sticking up. “I’m not Duncan. I’m Spider-Man!”
“No one will know you’re Spider-Man with your shirt on that way,” I say.
Duncan stands perfectly still while I stand on my tiptoes to turn his shirt around. “Where is Mom?” he asks.
I glance at the clock. “She’s at work,” I say.
“I don’t like her work,” he says.
“Neither do I. Come on, we’ve got to hurry.” I pour cereal into his bowl. Usually I let him do it, but we’re already late. I don’t have time for him to pour it, spill it and then pick up each piece of cereal.
“Do you wanna race?” I ask.
“I’m not racing,” he grumbles.
I inhale my cereal and then start running around grabbing our stuff. When I open the back door, the cold air hits me smack in the face. “Man, that’s freezing. You’re going to need a hat today, Duncan.”
“I don’t want one,” he mumbles.
“I hear ya. But remember your ears hurt when it’s really cold. Besides, Spider-Man wouldn’t be caught dead going out without his hat.”
Duncan shovels another mouthful of his cereal into his mouth. I can tell he is thinking about what I said. “I want my hat,” he says.
“I figured you would.” I throw it to him. He lifts his hand at the right moment and catches it, even though he’s not looking at me. Duncan avoids eye contact at any cost. He places his hat on his head and takes two more bites of cereal. Then he pushes his bowl away and says, “I’m done.”
Outside, the cold air stings my nose. I pull the collar of my coat up as far as it will go.
Our next-door neighbor, Mr. Cooper, is bent down picking up his newspaper. He’s usually the only person we see on our street in the morning. He never has his winter coat on, and he wears pants that are way too big for him. Sometimes I wonder if he used to be really big and then lost a bunch of weight but forgot to buy proper clothes afterward. He’s nice to Duncan and me. “Hi, Max. Hi, Duncan. It’s a little nippy today, eh?”
“I’m Spider-Man,” Duncan says.
I smile at Mr. Cooper. He is used to Duncan.
“Sorry, Spider-Man,” Mr. Cooper says. “One of these days I’ll get it right.”
“You’re going to confuse him,” I say to Duncan once we’re out of earshot. “Yesterday you were Batman, and the day before you were Darth Vader!”
“I saw the crack in his bum,” Duncan says.
“Well, at least you didn’t say that to him.” I glance back, but Mr. Cooper is already inside his house.
At the end of the road, we slip into the woods and walk along the path. The snow is deep, but someone has made a trail we can follow. The sun pokes through the tall trees. When we reach the
pond, I walk over to the edge and step onto the ice. I get swallowed up in a memory.
There was a full moon, and Dad and I had sneaked out to skate on the pond. We played some hockey, and then I challenged him to a race. I stare at the ice, remembering Dad. In my mind I hear the scrape of the skates as we darted across the pond and the sound of his belly laugh when we reached the other side. Our race ended in a tie. I know he could have beat me, but that was Dad.
The school bell rings in the distance, pulling me back into the present. Duncan and I turn away from the pond and everything that used to matter.
When we get to Duncan’s classroom, I open the door as Lilly slips out. She has the attendance book in her hands. “Oh, you made it just in time.” She turns around. “Miss d’Entremont, Duncan is here.”
“I’m Spider-Man,” he reminds her.
“Oh, sorry, Spider-Man. Hi, Max.” Lilly smiles at me with a mouthful of hot pink braces.
“Hey—can’t talk,” I say. “I’m late again.”
Lilly’s smile fades, or maybe I’m imagining things. I hurry to class. I can’t get another late slip. That would mean a call home.
I run the rest of the way, duck into my classroom and slump down in my chair. Ian is laughing with some kids in the back of the class. No one seems to have a care in the world.
Chapter Two
I can hear them. It’s like I’m right there.
I probably know who just scored. The sound of laughter echoes through the woods. When Duncan and I round the bend in the path, Ian is sliding belly-up on the ice. He skids smack into the goalie, puck and all.
“And he scores!” Ian yells.
“Nice one!” I shout in his direction.
“Oweee, nice one,” Duncan mimics in a low voice.
Ian stands up and brushes the snow off his pants. “Hey! Can you play today?” he hollers.
“No,” I yell back. “Mom’s got a long shift.” This is my standard answer now. Even when she isn’t at work, I still have to say that.
It kills me. I want to skate with Ian and the guys like I used to.
Ian skates over to the side of the pond. “That’s a drag!”
“Tell me about it,” I say.
Duncan starts walking in circles with his fist in his mouth. I roll my eyes at Ian and then say to Duncan, “We’re going in a second! Do you really have to do that?”
Duncan ignores me.
“Can’t you work something out?” Ian whispers. “He could hang out here while we skate.”
“I wish,” I say. “Look at him.”
Duncan is now crouched down, eating snow.
“Well, you gotta play next Friday, Max,” says Ian. “We’ve got a game with the Red Eagles. I don’t want to play against Cody without you.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Ian glances back at the guys on the ice. “Okay, I better go. See ya…” He zooms across the pond and steals the puck.
I smile to myself as I pretend I’m on the ice. Then I turn toward Duncan.
“Would you stop eating the snow. For all you know, a dog could have peed on it.”
Duncan puts his face closer to the snow. “Nope, no dog pee.” He eats another handful.
“I give up. Come on, let’s go home.” With one last look back at the pond, I lead the way along the path. The sounds of the skates scratching the ice and the shouts from the guys repeat in my head long after we’re out of earshot.
“I’m hungry,” Duncan says.
“You should have eaten more snow,” I say underneath my breath.
The smell of smoke from Mr. Cooper’s fireplace means we’re almost home. It signals food to Duncan and reminds me of the days when Mom was in the kitchen watching soaps on tv while she made us a snack.
All that changed when Dad died. Dads aren’t supposed to die before their kids are grown up. But mine did.
Some days it feels like my mom did too.
As I open the door, Mouse gets up from his sunny spot in the kitchen. He stretches and walks over to us. He rubs up against Duncan’s legs and then mine.
“Hi, Mouse,” Duncan says. He reaches down to pat him. Mouse purrs loudly. Duncan hangs his coat on his hook and places his boots so that the toes touch the wall. He then straightens all the shoes into a perfect straight line.
I dump my coat on the chair and throw my hat like a Frisbee. “Yes!” I say when it lands on the hook. Usually it takes me a couple of tries.
“I’m hungry,” Duncan says.
I’m staring into the fridge, trying to figure out how I can play hockey. I hear Duncan, but I’m too busy thinking to answer.
“I’m hungry!” Duncan wails.
The sound of something landing on the floor with a thud startles me. I slam the fridge door. Duncan is on his hands and knees like he is praying.
Sighing, I squat down beside him. “Do you really have to do that?”
He doesn’t answer. He keeps talking about how his superpowers aren’t working because he’s so hungry.
“Duncan!” I say in a louder voice.
“Yeah?” he finally says.
“I’ll get you something to eat, okay?”
“Okay.” Duncan sits up and looks at me with his big brown eyes. “I’m hungry,” he whimpers.
“I know you are.” I hold out my hand and help him stand up. “Let me guess. Macaroni and cheese?”
Duncan smiles.
“At least you’re predictable.”
“I’m not predictable! I’m, I’m Batman. And, and, you’re Robin,” he says in a low voice.
“Whatever you say.”
On Saturday morning the usual crowd is coming in and out of Bucky Dwayne’s All-In-One Store. “Duncan, hurry up!” Three people slip through the door before he catches up to me.
Inside, I pull out the list Mom gave me before she crawled back into bed. I hate it when she works the night shift, because Duncan has to go everywhere with me so she can sleep. Saturday is the worst day to come to Bucky Dwayne’s, especially with Duncan.
“Stop touching everything!” I yank him by the arm and pull him closer. “Let me look at the list for a minute, would ya?”
Duncan starts whispering into his hand. “Batman…Batman, you there?”
“Oh, don’t start, please,” I say.
“I’m here, Robin,” he says in a deeper voice.
“Keep it down!” I hiss. I can feel people staring. “Here, you push the cart. Pretend it’s the Batmobile.”
Duncan smiles, then speaks into his hand, “We’re leaving the Batcave. Hold on.”
He makes a weird swishing noise to go along with the movement of the cart. I walk in front of him, trying to tune out his noises. Duncan follows me through the aisles, bumping into things every once in a while.
Just as we turn into the third aisle, he rams the cart into my heels. “Oww!” I yell. “Would you watch it!”
“You stopped.”
“Let me push the cart past this crazy lineup,” I say. I wonder what’s going on. Then I notice the sign that reads, Sidney Crosby will be signing autographs today until noon.
I think about joining the line. But when Duncan’s whispers turn into a loud argument between Batman and the Joker, I know we can’t do it. I shove the cart toward the lightbulb section.
“Hey, Max!”
I turn around. Ian is almost at the front of the line. “Can you believe it?” He pulls a puck from his pocket. “I’m going to get it signed.”
“Cool…”
“Have you talked to your mom about playing yet?”
“Not yet,” I say. “I keep waiting for the right moment, but it never seems to come.”
“Just ask her, would ya!” Ian jabs me in the arm. “Hey, I’ll get something signed for you if you want.”
I dig into my pocket and pull out the money Mom gave me and a ten-dollar bill from shoveling Mr. Cooper’s driveway. “I don’t have anything.”
The line starts moving. “Okay, man. I’ll see if he has a flyer or some
thing.”
“Thanks.” I turn to make sure Duncan isn’t getting into anything. A sick feeling makes my stomach lurch.
He’s gone.
Chapter Three
Where is he?
I whirl the cart around.
“Did you see the tall boy I was with?” I ask a man standing in the lineup for Sidney Crosby. “He was probably talking to himself.”
“Sorry, can’t say I did. Why don’t you ask—”
I don’t wait for him to finish. I push the cart past all the people and glance down each aisle as I head to the other end of the store.
Nothing.
My last hope is the cereal aisle. Duncan usually gets obsessed with a new brand.
He’s not there.
I’m starting to freak. What am I going to tell Mom? My heart pounds in my chest like it does when I’m going in for a goal. I’m almost running now. The electronics section is at the end of the row. And then it hits me. He’s probably in the movie section.
I zoom around the corner and, sure enough, Duncan is standing in front of the big tv screen. The latest Spider-Man movie is playing, and he is glued to it— and I mean glued. If he was any closer, he’d be hugging the tv.
I’m relieved to see him, but at the same time I’m really ticked off. I wasn’t talking to Ian for that long.
“Duncan, you scared me,” I say. “You can’t run off like that!”
“I’m not Duncan, I’m Spider-Man!”
“I don’t care who you are! We’ve got to go.”
“But I want to watch.” He points at the screen.
“You can watch one when we get home. Come on.” I pull on his arm.
“No!”
“Stop embarrassing me,” I whisper. “Let’s go!”
I grab the cart and drag him out of the electronics section.
Bleep, bleep, bleep. The alarm goes off as soon as we walk through the area.
“Hang on there!” One of Bucky Dwayne’s security guys runs over. “I think you have something that hasn’t been paid for.”
Duncan has a video in his hands. Great!
