by Vicki Grant
I google childhood migraines again. Nausea, vomiting, pain, dizziness. That’s Gavin, all right. What I’m interested in, though, is the aura. That’s what they call this weird thing that happens to people’s eyesight right before the headache hits. Different people see different things. It could be bright lights, blobs, zigzag lines, starbursts, sparkles, a big black hole right in the middle of their vision, anything. It’s crazy stuff.
I scroll down the page until I find the line I was trying to remember.
Scintillating scotoma—a spot of flickering light near or in the center of the visual field.
That’s the medical name for it—but not what you’d call the aura if you were four. You’d probably call it something more like magic sprinkles.
That almost makes me happy. At least something makes sense. I even like the way a little kid would turn it into something fancy. It’s not a scotoma that’s going to give you a killer headache. It’s magic sprinkles, like something you’d find in a fairy tale.
I scan the page for more info. I notice the list of foods that can trigger a migraine. I wonder if it’s different from the one Jade posted on the kitchen cupboard. She might have missed something.
I scroll down. Pepperoni. Chocolate. Red wine. MSG.
MSG. It jumps right out at me. The initials are MS too.
Yeah, okay. What an amazing coincidence. I keep reading. Caffeine, cheese, artificial sweeteners…but something is bugging me.
I can’t remember what Jade said MSG was.
I google it too. Oh, right. That stuff they put in Chinese food. There’s a picture. It comes in a spice bottle and looks sort of like salt.
Or sprinkles.
Magic sprinkles.
I think of Gavin starting to cry in the grocery store. We were in the spice aisle. I remember that, because I’d looked around to see what might have set him off. All I’d noticed were bottles of cinnamon and boxes of kosher salt, so I’d figured it had to be something else.
In the park, Gavin had said he got magic sprinkles before. Did he mean he saw them before—or that someone gave them to him before?
I feel almost as if I’m having an aura myself. The words are kind of floating around on the screen. What I’m thinking doesn’t make sense. Jade loves Gavin. She’d do anything for him. She’d never hurt him.
Why don’t I believe that anymore?
Mick
Chapter Twenty
I stand outside Jade’s apartment building. It’s almost midnight. I know it’s too late to be here. I key in the security code and open the door to the lobby.
It would be better to talk to her about this tomorrow, when we’re both rested and can talk reasonably.
But we’re never going to be able to speak reasonably about this. I’ve got to do it now. I push the elevator button. By tomorrow, she may have done it again.
Done what? I don’t even know exactly.
I stare at the numbers above the elevator doors. They’re not moving. It’s broken again.
I should go home. I never would have thought anything like this if Quinn hadn’t planted the idea in my brain. Can I really picture Jade poisoning her little brother?
I take the stairs two at a time.
There’s light coming out from under the apartment door. Someone’s awake.
I knock.
“Jade.” I say it not much louder than a whisper—I don’t want to wake the neighbors—but I know she heard me.
“Jade,” I say again. “I need to talk to you about something.” It hits me that those are the exact words I used to break up with her.
She opens the door a tiny bit and whispers back at me. “It’s too late, Mick.” Too late for what? My heart is thumping like a punching bag. I picture Gavin lying on the floor.
“No, please,” I say. I push past her and into the apartment. I’m like a crazy person.
She grabs my arm. “We’re over. You can’t come in here in the middle of the night thinking I’ll take you back. Now go.”
“Where’s Gavin?” I say.
“In bed. Where do you think he is?”
“Let me see him.”
“No.”
“I want to see him.” I’m making no attempt to keep my voice down anymore. I walk behind the couch and toward his room.
She beetles around until she’s standing in front of me. She’s tiny and blond and pretty, and she’s the scariest thing I’ve ever seen.
Her eyes are squinted up, and her lips are pulled together. “You’ll give him a migraine,” she says.
I look past her and see the kitchen. All the contents of the cupboards have been dumped out on the floor. She goes stiff when she sees me looking. She’s too small to block my view.
“I’m not the one giving him the migraines, am I, Jade?”
She’s suddenly more alert, as if she’s about to give a presentation. She clearly knows what I’m getting at.
“Yes, you are. You upset him. You come and you go. You dump him when he needs you the most. Poor little GooGoo. I don’t know how you could be so cruel.” She’s put on this little-girly tone, and I realize something.
Magic sprinkles aren’t Gavin’s words. GooGoo. Put on your jimmyjams. Jade’s the one who talks like that, not him.
Is that what she told him they were called? Did he catch her doing it? Or did she make it into a game? All part of the fun?
“You’ve been putting MSG in his food, haven’t you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Magic sprinkles.”
“Why would I do that?” She should look more surprised than she does. “He’s just making that up. He’s little. He makes things up all the time.”
“No I don’t, Jade.”
We turn around. Gavin is standing in the door to his room. His mouth is turned down into a pout, and he’s clutching Kanga.
“I don’t make things up. I saw you. You give me magic sprinkles. MS stands for magic sprinkles and G for Gavin.”
Jade scurries over and gets down on her knees in front of him.
“Don’t tell stories, Gumpy-bear. People may believe you. You’ll get Jadie in trouble.”
She looks right into his eyes and rubs her hands down either side of his head. She won’t hurt him with me here.
“I know my letters, Jade,” he says.
She smiles. “Yes, you do, little man. You’re very smart. But even smart people make things up sometimes.”
“I didn’t make it up,” he says. He reaches into Kanga’s pouch and pulls out a small glass bottle. “See?” He points at the label. “MSG. Just like on the list.”
Jade jumps. “Give that to me.”
He won’t. “I’m sorry I took it, Jadie! I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to mess up the kitchen.” He lies on the bottle like it’s a hand grenade.
I’m trying to pull them apart when the door opens and Angie walks in.
Jade’s Diary
Chapter Twenty-One
April 30
I don’t understand how this could happen. It’s a nightmare. No one believes me.
Mick’s behind this. He set me up. It would have been so easy for him. He’s Gavin’s hero. Gavin would believe anything he said. He’s only four. It wouldn’t take much to convince him he was being poisoned. Now everyone thinks I’m the crazy one. That’s what they’re thinking. They’ve all forgotten how Mick cheated on me. He gets to be the good guy again.
I don’t even care about that. All I care about is Gavin. They won’t let me see him. I’m worried sick. Who’s going to look after him?
Not Mom. She didn’t even know how many migraines he was having. That’s how much she cares. Not his dad. He’s back now, but how long do you think that’s going to last? First time anyone needs money, he’ll be gone like a shot.
Not the doctors. I told them there was something the matter with Gavin, but they never did a thing about it. They must be delighted they’ve got me to blame now.
Not Mick. He’s too damn busy with his
new girlfriend.
Gavin’s going to get really sick without me. Just you watch. They’ll be sorry.
Mick
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jade’s mother is sitting across from me at McDonald’s. She’s taken three weeks off work but doesn’t look like she’s caught up on her sleep yet.
“Shoo! Go play,” she says to Gavin. We watch him duck into the fun room. He waves from the slide, then forgets about us and starts talking with a little girl.
Angie says, “That didn’t take long.” She seems a lot younger when she smiles, but she’s never smiled much.
She holds her paper coffee cup in both hands. She pushes the rim up flat with her thumb.
“I don’t want you to think badly of her,” she says.
I don’t say anything.
She puts on a smile for Gavin, who’s back at the top of the slide again. “It’s my fault,” she says. “I was too busy. I gave her too much responsibility. Looking after her little brother. Buying the groceries. Cleaning the apartment. Doing her schoolwork. Shouldering half the worry about money. That’s too much. She’s only seventeen. She needed looking after herself. A young girl like that needs attention too.”
I agree with her there.
“I’m not saying from you, Mick.” She keeps playing with her coffee cup. “That wasn’t your job. It was mine.”
She takes a swig of coffee, but it doesn’t stop her lip from quivering.
“That’s all this was about. Attention. She just needed attention, and this was the only way she could get it. She’s not a bad person.”
I’d like to believe that.
“How is she?” I say.
Angie tucks her hair behind her ear. She’s wearing a jacket that used to be Jade’s. It’s gotten kind of shabby, and I feel embarrassed for her.
“She’s not happy, but the hospital is good for her. Lets her get some rest and keeps her away from some of the things that could trigger her.”
She pushes her donut at me. “Want this? I don’t think I’m going to eat it after all.”
I almost say, “Save it for Gavin” but remember he can’t have chocolate. “Sure,” I say.
She takes a breath. “It’s called Munchhausen syndrome by proxy, Mick. That’s what she’s got. It’s a psychological condition. Caregivers harm a child in order to get attention for themselves. The doctor said that other than being so young, she’s a textbook case.”
That almost makes me laugh. It’s just like Jade to do it exactly right.
Angie turns her face away and dabs at a tear with her finger.
“I feel so bad,” she says. “I should have known something was up after that car accident. It didn’t make sense. Gavin said there was no cat. He said she went, Here goes! and just turned into the ditch. But who are you going to believe? A teenager who’s never, ever done anything wrong or a kid who talks to a stuffed kangaroo?”
She laughs at that, but not for long.
“I didn’t know about all those migraines,” she says. “I gave the preschool people permission to talk to Jade if there was a problem with anything. The idea was that she’d pass it on to me. She never did, so I just assumed everything was hunky-dory. Gavin was always asleep by the time I got home.”
She starts to cry. “I’d never even have known what she was up to if it weren’t for you, Mick.”
“No,” I say. “If it weren’t for Gavin, you mean. He’s the one who figured it out. He saw MSG on the list and MSG on the label and knew she shouldn’t be putting it on his sandwich. He hid the bottle. He’s a smart little guy.”
I say that to make her feel better, but it only makes her cry more. She takes a napkin and pats her face dry.
“Sorry,” I say.
She shakes her head and puts on a perky voice. “We’re going to be fine. My parents live in Brockville. We’ll go live with them as soon as Jade gets out of the hospital. It’ll be a brand-new start for all of us. Just what the doctor ordered. Mom will look after Gavin. Jade can finish high school. And I’ll finally take that medical secretary course I’ve been meaning to take.”
She stands up. “It’s been nice seeing you, Mick.” She gives me a hug, and then she calls Gavin. “C’mon, honey! We’ve got to go see Jade.”
He doesn’t even hesitate. He runs right over.
It takes me a long time to explain it all to Dalma. I don’t mind.
Vicki Grant has been called “a superb storyteller” by the Canadian Children’s Book News and “one of the funniest writers working today” by The Vancouver Sun. She’s written a number of titles in the Orca Soundings series, including Comeback, Dead End Job and I.D. She lives in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Find out more about her award-winning novels at vickigrant.com.
