Jockey Girl

by Shelley Peterson

  “Not that it matters.”

  “I like to know the enemy.”

  “Mark Sellers.”

  “Mark. Well, he’s probably forgotten all about it. And Amelia certainly played her part. Don’t leave her off the hook.”

  “She was just reporting facts.”

  “On Facebook? A little public, don’t you think?”

  Evie rankled. “What do you know?”

  “I don’t, but I was your age once, and I did things way more embarrassing than asking a guy out and getting turned down. This problem is quite fixable and not a big deal.”

  Evie sat up straight, outraged. “This is a big deal for me! The whole school is laughing at me! What do you know, anyway! You’re old and you’ve never even had children!”

  Mary sat staring at the steering wheel.

  Immediately, Evie felt awful. Aunt Mary was only trying to help. “Look, I’m sorry. I —”

  “No offence taken. I was too blunt.”

  “I only meant that you’ve probably never done anything stupid in your entire life, so you couldn’t know —”

  Mary cut her off. “So I couldn’t know how you feel? I think I do.” She sounded strange and upset. “I had my own pain when I wasn’t much older than you.”

  Evie didn’t interrupt. She listened.

  “I don’t talk about it, but I had a child when I was very young. You can imagine.” Mary swallowed with emotion.

  A child. Evie dropped her head. She tried to assimilate this new information.

  “Everybody at school talked about me. Made fun of me. Nobody wanted to be my friend. So I think I do know how it feels to be the one that people talk about. The difference is that nobody ‘Facebooked’ in those days.” Aunt Mary hesitated, and then said so quietly that Evie could barely hear, “It was hurtful, nonetheless.”

  Evie blushed, horrified at herself for being so insensitive. “I didn’t know. I really am sorry, Aunt Mary.”

  “I know. Apology accepted. I’m only telling you because you must understand something very important.” Mary looked into Evie’s eyes. “Everybody has a story. Everybody has pain. Look outside yourself. Those kids who you think are laughing at you? They’re all afraid that somebody else will laugh at them. Remember that.”

  What Aunt Mary said made sense. “What happened to your child?”

  “She was adopted into a good home.”

  “Do you know if she’s okay?”

  Mary looked at Evie sadly. “I know that she’s not okay.”

  “Oh.” Evie didn’t think she should ask any more questions, although she was very curious. “You’re right. My problem looks small next to that. Very small.” She straightened her back. “Now I’m ready to go.”

  Mary pulled back onto the road and drove to Evie’s school. They didn’t say a word until they were parked.

  “Thanks for the ride. And for the honest talk.” Evie opened the door of the truck to get out.

  “I’m coming in with you. The school has to know why you’ve been away.”

  “This is my problem, Aunt Mary. I can handle it.”

  “It’s best that I speak to the principal.”

  “You’re not my guardian. They don’t even know you.”

  “They will.” Her aunt got out and marched to the front door.

  Evie was exasperated. She sat in the truck for a few seconds, then reluctantly grabbed her bookbag and followed Mary in. When she got to the principal’s office, the door was closed. She peeked through the glass and saw Aunt Mary sitting across the desk from Mr. Chumar. They were engaged in animated conversation. Evie plopped herself down on the bench in the hall.

  How had she let Aunt Mary take charge? she wondered. She’d called Aunt Mary to help find her mother. Full stop. Not to live with her or to let her take control of her entire life. Now, Aunt Mary was talking to the principal, and who knew what she was saying? Regardless of how helpful she was trying to be.

  Evie was so preoccupied that she didn’t notice the person standing in front of her.

  “Evie?”

  She looked up and stared into the face of the boy who’d ruined her life. “Mark!” She felt her cheeks redden.

  “You haven’t been to school for a while.”

  Evie remained silent. She hoped he’d squirm.

  “I’ve been looking for you. All week. I wanted to talk to you. About … you know.”

  Evie swallowed hard. She was afraid of what words might come out of her mouth, so she kept it shut.

  “I called but you never answered. And you didn’t return my emails.” Mark shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I guess you’re mad.”

  Evie met his eyes levelly. “Well, I’m here now, so talk.”

  “Look, I didn’t see the crap Amelia wrote until the next day. By then a whole lot of people had written stuff, but I didn’t know it would keep getting worse, you know? It was just crap. I thought it would go away.”

  Evie didn’t answer, even though Mark looked genuinely upset. Let him boil in his own juice, she thought.

  “I would’ve gone to Amelia’s party with you, but … my mother needed help painting the garage. She turned it into a rehab spa to make some money. It wouldn’t be cool that I couldn’t go because my mother wouldn’t let me, but that’s the truth.” Mark looked very uncomfortable. “Amelia twisted what I said. I told her off. I should’ve done that on Facebook, but I didn’t. I mean, it didn’t mean anything.”

  Evie shrugged and snorted. “It didn’t mean anything to you, that’s clear. It did mean something to me. You let people think that you called me a loser and a skid.”

  “I’m really sorry.” Mark’s ears blushed.

  Evie found that she believed him. At least, she believed the blush. “Did you really say those things?”

  “No! That’s the whole point. She made them up!”

  Evie tilted her head and examined him. Mark, with his earnest brown eyes and thick, wavy brown hair, was very good-looking. “No big deal. I don’t care anymore.”

  “You don’t?” Mark gave her a wary look.

  “No.”

  “You don’t care what all the others —”

  “I don’t know what all the others think and I don’t want to. They’re all trying to be cool, like you. They’d rather laugh at me than be laughed at themselves.” She was happy to have Aunt Mary’s words to repeat.

  Mark’s face broke out into an enormous grin. “Wow! I felt bad and all along you were okay with it!” He shifted his bookbag and prepared to walk away. “Cool! See you around!”

  This wasn’t quite what Evie had been going for. “You can still feel bad, okay? It was really embarrassing. And if you think you’re a badass, you’re not.”

  Mark stopped retreating. One eyebrow lifted. “What?”

  “You hurt me. But you felt bad.” Evie stood and looked directly at her tormentor. “A badass wouldn’t care.”

  “If you say so.” Mark eyed her carefully.

  “So if what you say is true, you can get on Facebook and tell the truth. It’s not too late.”

  He reacted like he’d never noticed her before. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “I’ll … do it.” He spoke with uncertainty.

  “Now.”

  Mark nodded slowly and smiled. “Now.” He cocked his head quizzically. “Hey, why haven’t you been at school? What have you been doing all week?”

  “Training a racehorse.”

  “A racehorse? You mean, like a real racehorse that races on a track?”

  “That’s what I mean.”

  “Cool! Can I watch?”

  “Maybe someday. If you don’t put it on Facebook.”

  Mark was about to object when he saw the slight smile on Evie’s lips. “Cool.” He walked away, then turned back and laughed. “A racehorse! Wow.” He walked a couple more steps, then turned again. “Gotta get to class. Catch you later!”

  As she watched him make his way down the hall, E
vie’s heart rate steadied. She was proud of the way she’d handled that conversation and realized that an enormous weight had been lifted from her. She literally felt lighter. Mark had been trying to reach her and he’d been worried about her feelings. Aunt Mary had been right. This was a very fixable problem.

  Her aunt and the principal emerged a minute later. She stood up from the bench.

  “Hello, Evie,” said Mr. Chumar. “Your aunt Mary filled me in. We’ll not deduct marks for the tests you’ve missed, but it’s important that you catch up quickly. Final exams are next week.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Chumar. I’ll go to classes now and ask each teacher —”

  “It’s better that I do that. At the end of today, come back here to see me.”

  “I will. I’ll work hard to catch up. Thank you.”

  Mr. Chumar shook her hand. “You’re a fine young woman. Well done.” He blinked and returned to his office.

  Evie was puzzled. She turned to her aunt. “What did you say to him?”

  Mary put a hand on her shoulder. “That this week you rescued a dog, a horse, and your little brother. That you located me to help you find your sick and presumed-dead mother. That you are a remarkable young lady who deserves a second chance.”

  Evie was not sure that she could live up to this new image. “I’m glad you’re in my corner. Thanks.”

  “My pleasure. Have a good day at school. See you later.”

  15

  Angela’s Revelation

  Within a few days, the Gibb children had developed a rhythm in their new home at Parson’s Bridge.

  Jordie and Beatrice took the school bus daily to Abergrath and back, and then Mary drove them to their various activities after school. Jordie had kung-fu and piano. Beatrice had dance and swimming, which Evie couldn’t imagine. The thought of being submerged in water terrified her. It always had.

  At six every morning, Evie and Mary worked Kazzam before Evie showered and hopped on her school bus. From eight every morning until the children returned, Mary worked in the barn and wrote her new book.

  Things were much better for Evie at school. Aunt Mary had helped her out big time by telling the principal about Evie’s heroic deeds. It had travelled all around the school and made her a bit of a celebrity! She was the gutsy jockey who’d rescued her brother and saved animals. She was the girl whose mother had a tragic story.

  Eve found that she was actually glad to be back. Mark had done what he promised and righted the wrong on Facebook. In fact, he’d confessed to liking her! It’d made a huge difference. Rebecca, Hilary, and most of the other kids in her classes included her now. Amelia still avoided her, and Cassie, too, in solidarity, but Evie was okay with that. It was their problem, not hers.

  She was ready for her exams the following week. There were four: history, English, math, and science.

  At seven o’clock Friday evening, Mary was working at her desk after a supper of burgers and salad, with ice-cream cones for dessert. The three dogs were fast asleep on the carpet, and the kids were doing homework on the dining-room table.

  The telephone rang.

  Mary answered on the second ring. She spoke quietly, and nobody paid any attention until she hung up and stood. “Evie. Your mother will be okay, but she’s in the hospital. She was hit by a car on Queen Street.”

  “How bad?”

  “She’s unconscious. They found my card in her pocket.” Mary looked at her watch. “I’m going to see her. Does anybody want to come?”

  Evie closed her books. “I’m coming.”

  Beatrice wrinkled up her nose and frowned. “Can I stay here? My favourite show is on at eight.”

  “Certainly. The dogs will babysit.”

  “I’m almost thirteen! I can stay on my own.”

  “I know, Beebee.” Mary tousled her hair. “I just always feel better with the dogs around. Jordie? Your choice. Stay with Beebee or come. We’ll be back around nine-thirty or ten.”

  He squirmed in his seat. “No thanks. I’d rather stay here. I hate hospitals. Is that okay?”

  “Of course it’s okay. I’ll have my cell if you need me. Bedtime at nine. Evie, let’s go.”

  As they were leaving, Mary told the kids, “Don’t open the door to anybody. Call me if there’s anything wrong at all, and call Mr. Gregg next door if you need help. If it’s an emergency, call 911.” She hugged both and locked the door behind her.

  One hour later, Evie and Mary were riding up the elevator at St. Michael’s Hospital in downtown Toronto. Evie felt scared, even queasy. She could not imagine what they were going to see.

  The elevator door opened. Evie hesitated. “If she’s unconscious, why are we even here?”

  Mary took her by the arm. “They need us to identify her, and the doctors need permission to treat her. We’re very lucky. St. Michael’s is considered the best in North America for their work with people like Angela. Still, it never hurts for family to show up. For motivation.”

  Evie was puzzled. “What do you mean, motivation?”

  “She’s a homeless person. We don’t want anyone to think Angela has a lesser value.” Mary’s voice was steely.

  Of course. Some people would say good riddance to an addict off the street. Evie herself had wondered how much value her mother added to the world.

  Mary spoke to the nurse at the desk and they waited a couple of minutes until a middle-aged woman appeared to show them where Angela lay.

  “Thanks for coming so quickly,” the doctor said. “I’m Dr. Janette Graham,” she said. “Follow me.”

  At room 718, the doctor stopped. “Please take a good look and tell me if you recognize this person.”

  They both looked through the door window. Together they said, “Yes.” Mary added, “That’s Angela Parson.”

  “Will you sign this, please?” asked Dr. Graham as she handed Mary a clipboard with a pen. “It’s to confirm your identification of the patient.”

  “Angela,” corrected Mary firmly as she signed.

  Dr. Graham chuckled. “I’m from Jamaica. I know better than to judge a person from the outside.” She looked at her watch and tapped it twice. “You have ten minutes to sit with her. I’ll be back.” Dr. Graham strode off.

  Evie liked the doctor, especially her no-nonsense attitude. She and Mary entered the room. There were three beds curtained off from one another for privacy. Angela occupied the one closest to the door.

  She lay very still. Her face was pale, and her freckles had all but disappeared. A monitor was hooked up to her arm, with a drip going into her vein. Evie couldn’t tell how badly she was hurt, but a cut on her forehead had recently been stitched up. The skin around it was bruised.

  Mary pulled a chair closer to Angela’s bed. She motioned Evie to do the same. “We’re here, dear Angela. It’s Aunt Mary and Evangeline.”

  For five minutes, Evie held one hand and Mary the other. They didn’t speak. There were occasional sounds coming from the other patients — little grunts and groans and rustling of bedclothes. The minutes ticked slowly by.

  Then Angela’s fingers wiggled in Evie’s hand. “She moved!” Evie whispered.

  “That’s great!” Mary smiled. “Oh, this hand, too!”

  Angela’s head swivelled a tiny bit. Then she opened her eyes, one at a time.

  “Angela?” asked Mary quietly. “Can you see us?”

  Angela’s mouth curled up into a tiny smile. “Hello.” Her eyes squinted, then relaxed, then widened. “Where am I? Ooh, I hurt. What happened?”

  “You were hit by a car this evening,” replied Mary. “We came as soon as we heard.”

  “A car?” Angela’s eyebrows pulled together. “I hurt. I need something. I … I don’t … remember a car.”

  “That’s okay. You’ll remember in time. Right now it’s important that you rest and get better.”

  Angela moaned. “I hurt all over. Can you get something for the pain? And a smoke?”

  “The doctors will look after you,” said
Mary. Her tone was stiff and Evie looked at her quickly. “They’ll give you what you need and nothing more.”

  Evie realized that Angela was asking for drugs, but not just for the pain. She was an addict. Evie must remember that and try to understand that getting drugs was foremost to her.

  She tried to think of a topic of conversation. “Aunt Mary told me that you were a jockey. I never knew that. Is it true?”

  Angela nodded, then winced. “Ouch. I shouldn’t do that. Yes, I was a jockey. They called me ‘Jockey Girl.’ They meant it as an insult. But I loved the name.”

  “I want to be a jockey, too. Like you.”

  Angela’s eyes cleared. “Have you got my horses?”

  Evie was surprised. “What horses?”

  “At Maple Mills. They’re my horses. All of them.”

  “No Justice? Is he yours?”

  “He’s three now, isn’t he? Sire is Nobleman, dam is Judge Joody. He should be small but very fast.”

  “He is! How do you know his breeding?”

  Aunt Mary answered Evie’s question. “I keep in touch with your mother.” To Angela, she said, “But until this minute I never knew they belonged to you.”

  “It was never important. But now it is. I want Evie to ride them.” She tried to lift her head. “I hurt all over. I need something.”

  Evie squeezed her hand. “I call No Justice ‘Kazzam.’ I don’t know why. Well, I guess I do. He’s kind of magic to me. And he surprises people with his speed. A la Kazzam! He comes from behind and wins. Plus I had to race him under a different name so I could win money to find you.”

  “You did? And you won?”

  “Over a thousand dollars.”

  “Good girl.” Angela was fading. “I’m glad you found me. I think about you. All the time.” Her eyelids began to droop. “I’m going to get better. For you.”

  “For me?” Evie wiped her tear-wet cheeks.

  Angela nodded. “Get me something for the pain. And a cigarette. Can you get me something?”

  Mary said, “I’ll tell the doctor.” She signalled to Evie that they should go.

  “Aunt Mary and I will bring you pictures.” Evie stood up and moved her chair back. “I’ll take some nice ones of Kazzam. No Justice, I mean. He’s gorgeous.”