At the Edge of the World

by Jones, Kari;

  Let him think that if he wants. I don’t care. I squeeze Maddie’s fingers and follow her to the driveway, where River and Jack are sitting in Jack’s car.

  “Ready?” says Jack.

  “Yep,” says Maddie.

  Jack looks at my face and shakes his head. “Ouch. What happened to you?”

  “I fell.”

  “Looks bad,” says Jack.

  Maddie and Noah and I climb in the back, and Jack pulls away. Maddie sits in the middle and tells Noah about Riley Point. She shows him landmarks as we drive and laughs when he tells her a story about his sister.

  But she holds on tight to my hand, and I hold on tight to hers.

  SIXTEEN

  Maddie

  Surfing seems to help. I thought Ivan would sit out because of his swollen jaw, but instead he dives right in with the rest of us. He’s on fire today. He catches everything and rides the waves like a dolphin. Graceful. Easy. How on earth did he ever convince us he was clumsy? Now that I’ve seen where the bruises come from, I can hardly believe I ever thought he just bumped into things.

  The sight of Des falling into Ivan and Ivan hitting the doorjamb on his way down plays in front of my eyes all morning. It’s only when I’m in the thick of the white water that it goes away, so I catch everything I can. It’s the only way I make it through the day. The only thing that makes me forget I walked away.

  We surf until the tide takes the waves away from us. As I pull my board to shore, Ivan rides up beside me.

  “Maddie…” He pauses. We’re alone in the shallows. The others are on the beach already, pulling off their wet suits. “Thank you,” he says.

  “For what?” I don’t think my actions last night are anything to thank me for.

  “For not saying anything.”

  “I’m not sure,” I say.

  “What do you mean?”

  I take a deep breath, because I know this is not what he wants to hear. “I’m not sure it was the right thing to do. You should tell someone. Get some help.”

  He doesn’t answer. Instead, he picks up his board and walks up the beach.

  “Ivan,” I call after him, but he doesn’t turn around or stop or anything.

  Shit. The tears that have been threatening all day push at my eyes again.

  I follow him to Jack’s car. Noah is already out of his wet suit, standing by the hood in his towel, eating a bag of chips. Jack struggles to pull his legs out of his wet suit, and Ivan sits in the back seat and blows on his fingers to warm them up. He doesn’t look at me.

  His face looks worse now that he’s cold, the bruise a darker shade of purple. It breaks my heart to see it. How can someone so fit and strong-looking be so fragile?

  I walk around to the far side of the car and yank at the zipper of my suit. My fingers are clumsy. I can’t get it to move.

  Noah comes over and says, “I’ll do it.”

  I turn my back to him so he can pull on the zipper. He can’t see my face that way either, can’t see that I’m still fighting back tears. He gets the zipper down, then says, “What’s up with Ivan? He looks terrible.”

  I don’t know what to say, so I shrug and don’t say anything. My voice might not work anyway if I tried. There’s a towel in my bag, so I wipe my face and rub my hair with it. I hope Noah doesn’t notice I’m stalling until my throat opens up again and I can speak normally. I take a deep breath to steady myself and say, “It was dark in his house and he tripped. It was bad.”

  Noah fingers his towel and frowns in a way that makes me wonder if he believes me, but I start pulling off my wet suit, so he goes back around to the other side of the car to give me some privacy. I sit in the front seat and hug myself to stop my body’s shaking. I guess I’m keeping Ivan’s secret. I guess I am.

  When I’m changed, I fold my wet suit and roll up my towel, then gather my gloves and boots. There’s a mesh bag I use to keep these all together when they’re wet, but my fingers are trembling, and I can’t open the bag. It snags and catches, and I can’t get my stuff in. I can’t see anymore anyway, because my eyes are blurry with tears, so I throw my gear on top of the bag and drop everything to the floor. Ivan finds me a minute later.

  “Don’t cry, Maddie,” he says. He sits on the seat beside me. “I’m okay.”

  “But you’re not. Des is not.”

  “We are.”

  How can he say that? His face is swollen. He is not okay. Looking at him puts my troubles with Peter in perspective. Ivan was right when he said I should be careful what I wished for, because this is what having a dad who doesn’t care about you looks like.

  “Come stay with us, Ivan. You shouldn’t have to deal with this. Bo and Peter would understand. You know Bo already thinks of you as a son anyway. They love having you around.”

  The look on his face tells me I’ve made a mistake. Now it’s him who has tears in his eyes, and he can hardly look at me.

  “Maddie, I can’t.”

  I shake my head but don’t respond. He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, then offers that hand to me. I take it, and the two of us sit together.

  Once Jack and Noah finish dressing, Ivan and I shift to the back and let Jack drive us home. No one’s talking much, but I notice that Noah keeps sneaking glances at Ivan. Maybe he suspects Ivan’s bruise was more than an accident. I stare out the window so I don’t catch his eye.

  When we get back to town, Jack drives down the road where Ivan and I both live.

  “Drop us at the path to Maddie’s,” Ivan says.

  Jack slows down and pulls over so we can get out. Ivan and I gather up our stuff and wave goodbye to the others.

  “What are you doing now?” Ivan asks as the car pulls away.

  I think of all the things I’m supposed to be doing. Helping Noah’s mom in her garden again. Helping Bo and Peter get the house ready for the Lazy Days party. Hanging with Katia. Painting. But I say, “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

  We leave our boards and suits on the rack at my place, and I lead Ivan down a path toward the headland.

  “I haven’t been out here for ages,” he says.

  “Almost there.”

  I’m pretty much the only person who ever uses this trail, so it’s hard going, and we’re splattered in mud before long. A mist fills the air, so the fir and spruce trees look ghostly as we pass beneath them. When we get to the headland, I stop and point up into one of the trees.

  “What?” asks Ivan.

  “In the tree, look.”

  I pull him around so he’s standing in front of me, and I point so he looks in the right direction.

  Without warning, a flash of black wings storms at us, flapping the air into tornadoes. We bend away, but they come back. Beak and claws and wings slash at our heads. We fling our arms over our heads and start to run. The raven caws after us, claws extended, pincers in the air.

  “Keep running,” says Ivan, and the two of us stumble back up the path. The bird follows, pecking at our arms until we reach the cover of a smaller tree and huddle under it. The raven perches above us, cawing madly, and we hunch together, panting and shaking.

  “What the fuck?” shouts Ivan. He grabs a stick from the ground and waves it at the bird, but that just makes the bird angrier, and it lunges again.

  “Be still. It’ll think we’ve gone,” I say. Ivan drops the stick and crouches deeper under the cover of the branches.

  “Shit-crazy bird,” he says.

  “Shhh…”

  We wait. Our breathing slows, and it’s silent except for the hiss of drizzle on the branches and the creaks of the forest around us. Finally, the raven shuffles along the branch, opens its wings and flies away. We wait until it’s out of sight before we leave the cover of the tree.

  “What just happened?” asks Ivan.

  “I have no idea.” I’m shaking and cold. It’s time to get out of this forest. We take the path back to the beach as quickly as the muddy, root-filled path will let us. We’re both panti
ng as we step onto the sand. When we leave the forest, we leave the mist behind us. The sky at the beach is a clear and open blue. Sun glints on the water. We both stop and breathe hard. I’m shaking, but it feels good to be out of the forest. A deep breath helps still my body.

  “You were scared,” says Ivan. His voice is teasing.

  “You too.”

  “No I wasn’t.” He laughs as he says it because he knows he’s lying.

  “I think I need to sit here in the sun for a bit,” I say. The stones near the shore are dry and hot, and their smoothness feels good against my legs.

  “Lie back,” says Ivan. He chooses a stone and places it on my arm. Its heat spreads across my skin.

  “That feels great,” I say.

  Ivan finds another stone and puts it next to the first one, then another next to that, then another, until my arms and legs are outlined skeletons. The heat seeps into me, right to my bones, and for the first time all day my body stops shaking.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  Ivan places one more stone in my hand and says, “Thank you.”

  But he’s wrong to say so. He’s wrong.

  SEVENTEEN

  Ivan

  I manage to stay away from Des until late in the evening. When he sees me he winces, but he doesn’t say anything, and neither do I. This is what I’ve learned. Stay silent. Don’t remind him or he gets upset and does it again. When he finally does say something, it’s just “I’m having a beer, want one?”

  I shake my head. I’m in the middle of watching a bunch of old Supernatural episodes. I’ve seen them before, but it takes my mind off Maddie so I keep watching, but then Des sits down next to me and reaches for the remote to turn off the TV.

  “I was watching that,” I say.

  “We need to talk.”

  I don’t want to, but now that he’s next to me I can tell he’s sober, so probably it’s okay. I shift to make room for him.

  “I need some help,” he says.

  My heart jumps. I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting to hear those words.

  “I don’t know if Pedro’s up to the job, Ivan, and I really want this thing for the Salmon Festival to work. If I can start building again…” The sentence hangs, so I’m left to imagine the riches of our lives if Des can start building again.

  “So I’m asking if you will step in, help me with the last of the building.”

  I stare at the screen, even though it’s blank. Count to ten, I tell myself. Count to ten and let the disappointment slide away. Again.

  At ten I turn to face him. “You should have asked me in the first place.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he says.

  Shit. So what do I do with that?

  “Come on, buddy. We’ll do it together.”

  I don’t say anything.

  “And I’ll stay sober.”

  I shake my head. Heard that before.

  “Seriously. I promise.”

  “The only thing that’s going to make a difference is if you stay away from Pedro,” I say.

  “Yeah. I’ll stay away from him. I promise. Come on, Ivan. This could be the change I need. And we could use the money. I haven’t had many delivery shifts. And we’re good together when we work, right? And as I say, no Pedro, and I’ll stay sober.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Okay.” Because maybe, just maybe, he’s right.

  “Excellent,” he says, pouring his beer out the window. “It’ll be fun.”

  EIGHTEEN

  Maddie

  At home, I check into my henna supplies and look for more tattoo designs online. A few boys have started coming by asking for tattoos of dragons or swords or superheroes, which makes me wonder if Ivan showed his around on my behalf.

  I should paint, but focus is not easy to come by today, and searching for images online doesn’t take much concentration. Sitting on my bed with my computer seems like the right way to spend the evening.

  After dinner, Peter comes to my room and asks me to help with something in the studio.

  “Yeah, I’ll come in a sec,” I say. I’ve found a couple of images that might work, and I want to bookmark them so I can find them again to print them.

  What seems like only a couple of seconds later, Peter’s at my door again. “Maddie?”

  “What?”

  “Come now, please.”

  “Can’t it wait?”

  “I’ve been waiting. Now come on—I need you now.” Peter walks back into the hallway and adds, “Now, Maddie.”

  Out loud I say, “Jesus, Peter. One sec.” Under my breath I say, “Like there aren’t more important things in life than violins.”

  But maybe I speak louder than I think I do, because Peter stomps back into my bedroom and looms over me. He’s almost shouting when he says, “That is enough, Maddie. Your attitude sucks, you know. There are so many kids your age who would give their eyeteeth to be you. Do you have any idea how lucky you are to have talent and opportunity and a family who’s prepared to pay for your education? Do you have any idea?”

  I leap to my feet. “So what, you want me to bow down at your feet and worship you for it? Thank you, Oh Generous One.” I hear my voice and can’t believe these are the words that are coming out of my mouth. I feel like I’ve been taken over by some other person, a rude, nasty, spiteful person who’s saying things I don’t even mean.

  Peter’s voice turns frosty. “You may not want to go to university, Maddie, but that doesn’t mean you have to be horrible.”

  “It’s all you ever talk about. Emily Carr University. There are so many other things out there, Peter. So much going on in the world. So many things to learn about and to see. I just don’t want to go, can’t you understand that? IDON’TWANTTOGO!” I screech so loud my voice cracks, and behind it tears and sobs flood into its place.

  Peter doesn’t move, but I sink to my knees and sob into my hands. He stands over me, silent, for a long time.

  “Fine,” he says at last. “I’ll stop talking about it. It’s your life, after all.”

  I don’t look up until long after he’s gone.

  It wasn’t even about university or about him.

  NINETEEN

  Ivan

  In the morning Des and I drive to town, even though it’s only a ten-minute walk—we have a lot of wood and tools in the van. I’m relieved to see Bo waiting for us outside the library door.

  “I’m glad you’re working on this too, Ivan,” he says. There’s no hint of anything in his voice, and I smile at the thought that Maddie hasn’t said anything to him. He walks us over to where the stage is going to be set up and we sort out what needs to be done, and then Des and I spend most of the day working. Des was right—it is good when we work together. Des is still the best there is when it comes to wood and tools. The man can build anything.

  I’m just getting to that achy stage where my body starts asking me about Jack’s hot tub and how soon it can sink into it when Des stops and says, “I need food.”

  We both put down our drills and stretch. My back feels like someone stomped on it.

  “I’ll go get us some fish and chips,” says Des. This is the second time lately he’s offered to pay for food.

  I lie down on one of the struts of wood. It’s sunny for once, and the air is warm, so I close my eyes and let my skin soak it up. Sometime later Bo’s voice wakes me. “You know, I could have sworn the stage was going to be bigger than this.”

  I sit up and peer at him. He’s standing at the corner of the stage, looking at it, his hand on his chin.

  “Really?”

  “It looks small,” he says.

  “Does it?”

  He nods. I get up and stand next to him. “How big were you expecting?” I ask.

  “Twelve feet by twelve feet,” he says.

  It’s not. A quick glance tells me that. I’d say more like ten by ten.

  “Is twelve by twelve what you asked Des for?” I ask.

  “I’m pretty sure I did,” sa
ys Bo.

  “Okay, well, I’ll figure it out.”

  Bo smiles and pats me on the shoulder. “I know,” he says.

  When he walks away, I sit on the edge of the stage and think. Des comes back a couple of minutes later with fish and chips for both of us, and I say, “The stage is supposed to be twelve by twelve.”

  “No,” he says, stuffing a bite of fish into his mouth.

  “Let’s see the notes Bo gave you.”

  “He said ten by ten.”

  “Let me see.”

  He grunts but digs in his pocket and pulls out his phone, then finds the notes and hands them to me.

  “Twelve by twelve,” I say.

  “Shit, give me that,” he says, grabbing the phone back from me.

  “Shit,” he says.

  We both take a few bites of fish and chips in silence.

  “We’ll build the extra two feet separately and attach them,” I say.

  “We’ll have to,” says Des.

  “You’re welcome,” I say.

  We continue with our work, and when Bo comes by again, Des says, “The extra two feet are coming later.”

  Bo frowns and scratches his neck.

  “We built it that way in case the stage has to get moved at the last minute to a smaller spot. It happens more than you’d think,” I say.

  “Ah,” says Bo. “Clever thinking.”

  He watches us for a while, then heads off around the library.

  We work for another half an hour or so, and then Pedro arrives.

  “Fuck,” I say under my breath when he turns from the sidewalk and comes toward us.

  “Hey,” Pedro calls.

  Des puts down his drill and walks to meet him. They talk for a second, and then Pedro waves at me and leaves.

  I could go home. I could go surfing. I could find someone to shout at, but instead I say, “I thought you said no more Pedro.”

  “I just have a couple of things to work out with him.”

  “That wasn’t the deal, Des. Shit. That wasn’t the deal.”