by Kit Pearson
Corrie was so relieved, all she could do was stand there and grin.
That day after school they started a new game—dressing up their small stuffed animals. Corrie only had Pookie, but Meredith lent her the squirrel and two of the teddy bears.
Meredith had already named the raccoons Raccy and Coony. They called the squirrel Perri, after the movie. The four bears were Edward, Oscar, Simon, and George.
Mrs. Cooper had a large basket full of sewing material. For hours Corrie and Meredith fashioned tiny capes trimmed with sequins, and hats that fastened with embroidery floss and had slits for the animals’ ears. Pookie’s hat had a tiny bell on top.
On the days when it was dry enough to play outside, they made twig houses and leaf beds for the animals in the Coopers’ rock garden. They circled an area with stones and called it the Kingdom of Cordith, from their two names. The four bears were the kings, the raccoons were princes, and Pookie was a princess.
All of the animals could fly. Corrie and Meredith chose one each day to take to school. They soared them through the air on the way, but as soon as they came within sight of the building they hid the animals in their jacket pockets.
At first the animals stayed there during class. Then, because neither girl had pockets in her skirt, they sewed pouches and hung the animals around their necks.
This was Meredith’s idea; Corrie was worried that someone would notice, but Meredith told her what to do. If someone asked, “What’s that around your neck?” then Corrie was to shrug and say nonchalantly, “Oh, nothing.” She got used to it, and began to enjoy the power their mystery created.
One day at recess the Five circled them. Donna smiled. “We can’t stand the suspense any longer! Could you please show us what you have around your necks?”
Meredith giggled. “What do you think, Corrie? Shall we tell?”
“I … guess so,” faltered Corrie. What if they thought they were impossibly childish for playing with stuffed animals?
But the five girls shrieked with delight when they saw Pookie and Raccy. They admired their capes and stroked their furry heads.
The next day Darlene brought a tiny mouse dressed in a red cape. Donna had a giraffe, and Gail a fox terrier. Because they displayed their animals proudly on their desks, Corrie and Meredith let theirs out of their pouches. It was much easier to endure arithmetic with Pookie perched on the inkwell.
Within two weeks every single girl in the class had brought a small stuffed animal in costume to school. Mr. Zelmach decreed that the animals were allowed to sit on the desks, but no one was permitted to pick them up or play with them during class.
Soon the other grade six class, and some of the grade fives, had animals as well. All of recess was taken up with introducing and comparing the animals. “We’ve started a fad!” gloated Meredith.
The best part was that Corrie and Meredith still had their secret game. All the girls delighted in naming and dressing their animals, but no one knew about the Kingdom of Cordith and the increasingly elaborate stories that Corrie and Meredith made up about it.
For Corrie, the new game became a welcome refuge. She paid Harry a month’s allowance to take home the twins two more days a week. It was hard to give up her comic and candy money, but worth it. Now she played at Meredith’s almost every afternoon. Even on Thursdays, when Meredith rode her bike to her piano lesson, Corrie stayed at her house, helping Mrs. Cooper get dinner ready.
Meredith’s mother was so easy to be with. She talked to Corrie as if she were grown up, telling her how much she missed her parents in Calgary. “We’re trying to persuade them to move here, but they won’t budge!” she lamented.
Mrs. Cooper gave Corrie a whole bagful of shoeboxes to use for dioramas. “Is everything all right, Corrie?” she sometimes asked. Corrie assured her it was. She bent her head over the counter to hide her shame that, once again, she had to lie.
EXCEPT FOR the Round Table meetings, which still happened every Saturday, orderly life at home had fallen apart. This was because Sebastian had changed. One week in late January he suddenly seemed so much happier that at first Corrie thought he and Roz had made up. But the two of them still ignored each other.
Sebastian sat at the table with a faraway look in his eyes. He whistled constantly. And at every meeting of the Round Table he read them stories about Guinevere.
“‘He loved the queen again above all other ladies and damsels all the days of his life, and for her he did many great deeds of arms, and saved her from the fire through his noble chivalry,’” he quoted in a tender voice.
“That’s too mushy,” complained Orly.
“No it’s not!” said Juliet. “Guinevere’s brave, isn’t she?”
Sir Lancelot smiled at her. “She is the bravest and most beautiful woman in the world, Master Jules.”
Sebastian became more and more absent-minded. He didn’t react when Harry missed his turn drying dishes or when Juliet turned her porridge bowl upside down on the table. He forgot to give them their allowances. He even forgot his own birthday. When they gave him their presents at the breakfast table he smiled with surprise.
Roz was out almost every evening now, doing her homework with Joyce. Sebastian went straight to his room after dinner and neglected to enforce bedtimes. The others stayed up later and later, watching TV shows Sebastian had never let them watch. Roz got home about nine and crossly ordered them all to bed. In the mornings they yawned heavily and protested about having to get up.
Corrie turned out her light later and later. She found it hard to concentrate in school, and occasionally she fell asleep on Meredith’s bed. Orly had blue circles under his eyes and he burst into tears about the tiniest things. Juliet started a fist fight with another girl and had to go to the principal’s office.
After Harry told her that he had got into trouble for falling asleep on his desk, Corrie decided she would have to be the one to set bedtimes. That night she insisted that the twins go to bed at eight as usual, and Harry at eight-thirty. Despite regretting the missed reading time, she made herself turn her own light out at nine.
“I’M ITCHY,” complained Juliet one morning, scratching some red spots on her face.
“Oh, no!” said Roz. “Chicken pox!”
“How do you know?” Corrie asked her.
“Because Harry had it two years ago—don’t you remember?”
Corrie nodded. “What should we do?” Usually Sebastian would have a suggestion, but he had left for school early.
“Put her to bed and call the doctor, I guess.”
“But who will take care of me?” demanded Juliet, proud to be so important. The others pondered this. Before the twins went to school, the housekeeper—or, before that, Aunt Madge—took care of anyone who was sick.
“The Elephant will be here,” said Harry.
“You know she won’t take care of Juliet.” Roz looked defeated. “I’ll have to stay home from school. And I have a math test today! And I’ll miss baton practice!”
“I’ll stay home,” said Corrie.
“Me too!” offered Harry.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re far too young!” Roz snapped. Then her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry, you guys, I didn’t mean to yell at you. But it’s so hard! What if Juliet is sick for a week? What if Orly gets it? He probably will; he’s the only one of us who hasn’t had it. What are we going to do?” Then she cried in earnest, putting her head on the table. “It’s not fair! I’m so tired of trying to look after everyone, especially since Seb is doing nothing these days.”
Harry patted Roz’s back awkwardly while the twins watched with frightened eyes.
“Fa should look after her,” said Corrie. “I’m going to wake him up and tell him.”
Roz raised her wet face. “Don’t, Corrie! He has to go to work!”
“He’s our father,” said Corrie, in a firm voice that seemed to belong to a stranger. “He’s supposed to look after us.”
She ran to Fa’s study and
knocked on the door. After a minute he opened it, yawning and engulfed in his dressing gown. “I’m sorry to bother you, Fa, but we think Juliet has the chicken pox and we have to go to school.”
Fa shook his head awake. “Chicken pox!” In a minute he was in the kitchen, examining Juliet. “Now don’t you worry about a thing,” he told them, as focused as he was on Sundays. “I’ll phone the doctor and put her to bed. You’d better stay home as well, young Orlando, since you’re bound to get it. Hop into your beds, you two. I’ll come up in a moment and read you a story until the doctor comes.”
“But, Fa,” said Roz, “what about your classes?”
“I’ll phone and cancel them. Off to school with all of you, now, before you’re late.” He shooed them out the door.
When Corrie got home, Orly had broken out into spots as well. Both twins were feverish and whiney, their room a mess of drinks, toys, and rumpled sheets. Fa looked rumpled and exhausted himself, but he refused to let any of them help. “Doctor Blair said it was normal childhood chicken pox. They’ll be fine in about a week.”
“A week! Can you stay home all that time?” Corrie asked him.
Fa smiled. “It’s all arranged. I have a teaching assistant to take my classes—it will be good for him. And when the twins are napping or watching television I can work a little on my book.”
“But … do you want to look after them all day? Maybe you could pay the Elephant extra to take care of them.”
“Mrs. Elephant has made it very clear that she doesn’t want any extra work. She’s a rather touchy woman, isn’t she? But never mind, I’m quite happy to stay home. We’ve been having a good time, haven’t we? We’ve read some of the Just So Stories and we’re about to start The Water Babies. We’ve played Fish and Slapjack, we’ve built a Tinkertoy castle, and we’ve drawn pictures of knights and dragons.”
“We have a pox, Corrie,” said Juliet. “We may die!”
“Nobody is going to die, Juliet dear,” said Fa. He rubbed some pink lotion onto her cheeks. “Now, remember not to scratch.” He picked up Juliet, and surprisingly for her, she leaned her hot head against his shoulder. Lucky Juliet and Orly, thought Corrie, getting a whole week of Fa’s attention!
It was a week free of responsibility. No one had to worry about the twins at all—about bathing them or feeding them or taking them to and from school. But the next week the twins were fully recovered, Fa went back to his study, and they were on their own once again.
11
Guinevere
Sebastian had barely noticed that the twins had the chicken pox. He became more and more remote, gazing at his sisters and brothers benevolently each morning through half-closed eyelids.
“Are you feeling all right, Sebastian?” Corrie asked him.
His eyes sparkled. “I’m fine!” Corrie waited for him to say more, but he had stopped confiding in her.
He had a secret, she decided. Something was going on in his life—something good, obviously—that had nothing to do with her or the family. So it must have to do with school. Corrie was glad he was happier. But she hated how much he excluded her.
“Let’s play a new game,” Corrie told Meredith. “Let’s spy on Sebastian.”
“Spy on him! Why?”
Corrie tried to be nonchalant. “Oh, just because he’s been acting strange lately. It’ll be fun. We can hide somewhere outside his school and wait for him to come out.”
The next day they pedalled fast the ten blocks to Laburnum Junior High School. They found some laurel bushes close to the entrance, dragged their bikes into them and collapsed on the damp dirt to catch their breath.
“The bell hasn’t even gone yet,” panted Corrie. “It’s a good thing Sebastian’s school gets out later.”
They gazed fearfully at the red-brick building. It was so big! Roz said there were more than five hundred students in the whole school. All teenagers, who talked about scary things like dating and make-up and jiving. Corrie felt for Pookie in her jacket pocket. Certainly there would be no place for toy rabbits in grade seven.
“I wish we could stay at our school forever,” whispered Meredith. They became more and more depressed as the bell rang and swarms of kids holding books congregated on the steps. It was warm for February and the crowd lingered there, mostly in groups of girls and boys eyeing each other. “Hey, Linda!” a boy from one group shouted. “Kevin here says he likes you!” All the girls tittered and all the boys guffawed. White collars and shiny shoes and greased hair sparkled in the winter sun. It was like watching another species.
No wonder Roz abandoned the Round Table! thought Corrie. This school was too real for pretending. And no wonder Sebastian retreated so much into being a knight. You would have to do one or the other—either give in to the teenaged intensity or keep yourself aloof from it. Which would she do?
She was distracted from these confusing thoughts when Meredith hissed, “Look! There’s Roz!”
Corrie gazed at her pretty sister. She moved down the steps in a pod of her friends. They talked in high, false voices, carefully not looking at the groups of boys. One of the boys, whom Corrie recognized as red-haired Ronnie, stared longingly after Roz. She and her friends disappeared around the corner as they headed for the bike stands.
Most of the groups on the steps had also left. It was chilly under the bushes and Corrie’s legs were cramped from squatting in the dirt.
“Maybe Sebastian went out another door,” said Meredith.
Then he appeared. He wasn’t alone, but was talking to a tall girl with a long thick black braid falling down her back. All her clothes were black too. She had her face turned to his and was listening so avidly that she tripped. Sebastian caught her arm. He kept his hand on it while she went down the rest of the stairs. Then he held her hand while they strolled down the street.
Corrie stood up, her legs shaking.
“Wow!” said Meredith. “He has a girlfriend!”
Corrie couldn’t answer. What she had just witnessed couldn’t be real. She rubbed her freezing hands together as they stood in the sunshine.
“Corrie, are you all right?” Meredith asked her. “Say something!”
“It’s just so … odd,” said Corrie. “Sebastian’s never had a girlfriend before!”
“Well, he is fifteen,” said Meredith calmly.
“Yes, but …” She couldn’t explain. It was as if her brother had become a stranger. “I know her,” she said finally. “She used to go to our school. Her name’s Jennifer—Jennifer Layton.”
“She looks so glamorous, like a movie star!”
“She didn’t look like that before. She had shorter hair and she slouched. And she wrote poetry. She made up a poem for Remembrance Day that was so good she had to read it in front of the whole school. She was kind of shy—she kept her head down and mumbled.”
“She sure doesn’t seem shy now,” said Meredith as they got on their bikes.
“I guess people change when they go to junior high,” said Corrie. “Like Roz has.”
And now, like Sebastian.
CORRIE LONGED TO TELL Sebastian that she knew about Jennifer. But then he would find out she had spied on him. A knight never lies. Was it a lie if she just didn’t say anything? But if she didn’t, how else could she reveal that she knew?
She wrestled with this for several days. Finally, late on Saturday afternoon, she knocked on Sebastian’s door. “Will you help me with this hood for Mercury?” she asked.
“You have done an excellent job of this, Gareth,” said Sir Lancelot, picking up the tiny hood. “All you need are some ties here.”
Corrie stared at her brother, then blurted out, “I know about you and Jennifer.”
Sebastian flushed bright red. He motioned Corrie in and closed the door. “You do? How?”
“We—Meredith and I—spied on you,” mumbled Corrie. “I’m really sorry, Sebastian,” she added quickly as he frowned. “It wasn’t honourable. But you’ve been acting so strange lately and you
wouldn’t talk to me. I knew you had a secret. I just had to find out!”
“It was wrong of you to spy on me,” Sebastian told her. “Knights don’t spy on fellow knights. But I’m sorry I was so secretive. I was going to tell you about her sometime. It’s just so … new.” He smiled gently.
“Tell me about her now,” urged Corrie, sitting on his bed.
“Her name’s Jennifer Layton—you probably knew her at Duke of Connaught. Isn’t that amazing? ‘Jennifer,’ like ‘Guinevere’! In fact, that’s how the name originated—I looked it up.”
Now it made sense that Sebastian was suddenly so obsessed with the legends about Guinevere. “Is Jennifer nice?” Corrie asked shyly.
“She’s amazing! She writes great poetry. And she doesn’t think I’m weird. She really likes my long hair. That’s because she’s different too. None of the other girls dress or act like her. She’s not silly like they are, and she’s really confident. She won’t do anything that’s against her principles. She would make a good knight … if she wasn’t like Guinevere, of course.”
“Does she know about the Round Table?”
“Not yet,” said Sebastian. “She might think it’s too strange.”
Corrie was relieved. A knight with a girlfriend was just too confusing.
“The worst thing is that we can’t see each other outside of school,” said Sebastian. “We walk home every day but I have to leave her a block from her house. Her parents are really strict. She’s not allowed to go out with boys until she’s sixteen. So we’ll have to wait another year before I can take her places.”
Corrie felt even more relieved. If Jennifer was only a part of Sebastian’s school life, things could stay almost the same.
“You just don’t know, Corrie, how incredible Jennifer is. She’s perfect. She’s exactly like the real Guinevere—beautiful and brave.” His face was filled with wonder.
“Guinevere wasn’t real, though,” said Corrie carefully. “She’s just a story. Jennifer is the one who’s real.” And nobody could be that perfect, she thought.
“Well … they’re both real. This is probably hard for you to understand, Corrie, but I think Jennifer is actually a reincarnation of Guinevere.”
