Disconnect
Page 1
Disconnect
Lois Peterson
ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS
Copyright © 2012 Lois Peterson
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
Peterson, Lois J., 1952—
Disconnect [electronic resource] / Lois Peterson.
(Orca currents)
Electronic monograph.
Issued also in print format.
ISBN 978-1-4598-0145-5 (PDF).—ISBN 978-1-4598-0146-2 (EPUB)
I. Title. II. Series: Orca currents (Online)
PS8631.E832D58 2012 jC813’.6 C2012-902232-2
First published in the United States, 2012
Library of Congress Control Number: 2012938149
Summary: Fourteen-year-old Daria’s addiction to technology
creates serious problems in her life.
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 Getty Images
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
15 14 13 12 • 4 3 2 1
For teachers and students at the
South Surrey/White Rock Learning Centre.
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
Chapter One
“Are you listening?”
I typed, In case I forget later, GL with the dance comp. Gotta go.
“Daria!”
“Okay. Okay!” I said as I hit Send and pocketed my phone.
“I told her you would go by after school,” my mother said. “To meet the kids.”
“Told who?” I asked through a mouthful of cereal. “What kids?”
I looked up from the table when I noticed the silence filling the kitchen. My mother’s hands gripped the chair in front of her. Her eyes were closed.
“What?” I asked. So now she expected me to read her mind?
Mom opened her eyes. Her hands were white on the top of the chair. “Why do I waste my breath?” she hissed.
“What?” I asked again. I scooped up a spoonful of cereal and munched.
Mom sighed. “Cynthia Clarkson. A colleague of mine? I have told you about her.” My mother must be the only person who can spit through clenched teeth. “She has two children,” she said. “They need a babysitter.”
“Me?” Only twelve-year-olds babysat!
“This would be one way to earn the fare to see Selena and Josie at spring break,” she said.
“I want to work at the mall,” I told her. “In a clothes store, maybe. So I can get a discount.”
“You’re too young to work in retail.”
My phone vibrated against my leg. I pulled it out of my pocket and checked the screen. Two messages.
“Leave that,” said Mom. “Listen to me for one minute.”
“I am listening.” One was a text from Josie. Call S to wish her luck. PLS. Shes driving me nuts.
Mom’s hand shot out and batted the phone from my hand. It skittered across the table.
I grabbed it and wiped it on my shirt. “You could have smashed that!”
Suddenly my mother’s face was so close I could see the pores on her nose. “Give me your attention,” she said. “For once.”
“Chill out, would you?” I checked the screen to make sure everything still worked.
“That’s it. Forget it.” Mom shoved her chair hard against the table, causing my spoon to tip out of my bowl and clatter onto the floor. “I thought it would be a good idea,” she said. “Just forget it.”
“Mom!” Why did she have to overreact to everything?
“Never mind. I’ll be late. Clean up that mess,” she said as she charged out.
I watched the door, expecting her to come back. She sometimes does that. She gets a second wind and starts in again at full rant.
When I heard Mom’s footsteps thud up the stairs, I settled back in my chair. I quickly texted Josie back. Did already. U kno S. Tell her to imagine Im there watching. Take pics.
I closed my phone and stuck it in my pocket.
Babysitting! What was Mom thinking? Snotty kids. Reading stories. Doing puzzles! There had to be better ways to make the fare back to Calgary.
Chapter Two
I sat next to the window in case things got boring, and in the middle row to avoid getting noticed. I unpacked my books and binders and stacked them on my desk with my phone on top.
“Okay if I sit here?” asked a girl I’d never seen before. She was wearing a knitted hat with pink strings that hung down to her shoulders.
I shrugged.
The girl unloaded her bulging green bag and unpacked a load of stuff onto the desk. “I love the first day at a new school.” A silver ring in her bottom lip flickered. “I’m Cleo.” She stuck her hand across the aisle.
“Pleased to meet you.” I kept my own hands on my desk.
Cleo didn’t seem to notice the snub. “And you are?”
“Daria. Rhymes with malaria.” Josie had pointed that out the day we met in grade two.
Cleo pulled a pen out. “I just moved to Delta. What’s it like, then?”
“Boring.”
“I guess you’d feel that way if you always lived here,” said Cleo.
“We got here last month.”
“Maybe we should check out town together,” she said.
“I don’t think so.” I picked up my phone and clicked through my messages.
“That’s a cool phone,” said Cleo.
Cool? It was at least a year old.
I was reading another panicked text from Selena when the classroom noise died down. Bags thudded to the floor, chairs scraped and the talking subsided.
Mr. Jenks swung around from scribbling on the board. “I have your attention. Good.” He scanned the room. “Class. We have a new student joining us. This is Cleo Bennis.”
“Hello, all.” Cleo grinned and waved. You’d have thought she was the Queen.
Snickers came from behind her. A few kids muttered “Hi” as if they couldn’t care less. But no one waved back.
Keep your head down and mind your own business, I thought. Works for me.
Cleo was right behind me as everyone swarmed out of the room after class. “So how about it?” she asked.
Going for gold!!! Wish u were here.
I looked up from Selena’s message. “How about what?”
“Checking out the neighborhood?” Cleo’s hat strings bobbed as she jostled her way through the door.
“I have to go straight home,” I told her. I sounded like a kindergarten kid, so I added, “I’m babysitting tonight.” As if.
Cleo’s smile faded. “That’s fine. Okay.”
I almost felt bad.
&
nbsp; “What class have you got next?” Cheerful again. “I’ve got honors math.” She tapped her schedule against her cheek. “Where is room nineteen?”
“Second floor. Next to the girls’ washroom. I’m headed the other way.” I pushed through the crowd, head down, my eyes on my phone screen.
I could feel Cleo watching me. But I didn’t turn back.
At the Kave, a guy with green hair sneered, “We don’t hire babies.” At Bookends, they asked for id. I told the McDonald’s manager, whose name tag said his name was Cliff, that I was fifteen. He gave me an application form and told me to return it with my birth certificate.
It was the same in every store. Even to stock shelves, you had to be fifteen. I had seven months to go. I shoved the McDonald’s paperwork into the nearest garbage can.
Back home, Josie and Selena and I hung out at the Chinook Center after school most days. We would share an iced cappuccino while we scoured the sales racks at The Gap and checked out the movies and CDs at HMV. Sometimes we did our homework at the food fair. We weren’t total slackers.
When we started high school together, we came up with a Cool Code of Conduct. One: Keep your head down. If you’re invisible, you can get away with almost anything. Two: Don’t fail. It was like being a fish, Selena said. Slow down, and an eagle swoops down and grabs you. She’s into nature big-time. Three: Stick together. High school—and life—are hard enough. The only way to survive is to stay connected.
Since my parents dragged me to Delta, the old rules worked. Especially number three. Even with a thousand kilometers between us, Selena, Josie and I were never out of touch.
When I checked my phone, I had three messages. One panicked one from Selena. Another from her. And one from Mom.
I checked that first. Selena’s performance nerves were getting boring. It was always the same.
Home by 5. Pls.
Wots up? I texted Mom back. Then started one to Selena. Good luck. #? do I have to say it? Break a leg etc.
I didn’t notice the old lady until she barged into me. I grabbed her shopping cart to regain my balance. “Sorry.”
“It’s my fault.” Two harsh dark lines were drawn above the woman’s eyes where her eyebrows should have been. “My daughter said I wasn’t ready,” she said. “But a short walk around the mall, I told her. How could that hurt?” One of her legs was encased in a blue Aircast.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“No blood spilled.” The woman smiled. “Not bad news, I hope.”
“Pardon me?”
“You were so intent on your phone.” The woman eased herself down onto the bench.
“I was checking on my friends.”
“You’re meeting up with them, I expect,” she said. “You better get on.”
“No. They’re back in Calgary. One has a dance recital tonight. I was texting to wish her good luck.”
The woman nodded. “My grandsons do a lot of that. I hardly get a word out of them when they visit.”
Another text alert beeped. “I better get going,” I said.
“You go ahead. Nice to meet you.” The woman pulled her shopping cart close. “I’ll just sit here for a bit.”
I was heading out the door by Safeway when I saw Cleo coming my way, loaded down with grocery bags. Striped mittens swung from her sleeves. “I thought you were babysitting,” she said.
I felt myself flush. “I’m headed there now.”
“I could walk you.”
“I’m in a bit of a rush.”
As I stood on the sidewalk waiting for the light to change, I realized that it wasn’t my sparkling personality that Cleo was interested in.
She was new too. She didn’t have any friends here and thought I might do.
I already had all the friends I needed. Even if they were miles away. And one was having another meltdown.
Chapter Three
I finally gave in to Mom’s nagging and decided I would babysit for her friend. My real motive was knowing it would take more than my stingy allowance to get back to Calgary.
On my first visit to meet the kids, they looked sweet, sitting at the table.
“This is Emmy,” said Ms. Clarkson. The girl’s hair was red and curly. “And this is Caden.” His mom ruffled his straight hair. “Sit down, please. Can I get you a snack?”
“I’m fine, thanks, Ms. Clarkson.”
“Call me Cynthia.”
“Do you got LEGO?” Caden asked me.
“That’s all he thinks about,” Emmy said.
“I still have mine from when I was little,” I told Caden.
He grinned at me. “Do you want to see my space station?” He slid down from his chair and darted from the room.
“He will make you look at it, even if you don’t want to.” Emmy rolled her eyes. “It is his pride and joy, that’s what Mommy says. I don’t have a pride and joy.”
“Is Emmy short for Emily?” I asked.
“It’s Emerson.” The little girl got down from the table. “Not all Emmys are called Emily, you know.” She stood with her hands on her hips. “We have a Ping-Pong table downstairs. Can you play?”
“Daria is going to visit with me for a while,” said her mother.
“After, then?” asked Emerson.
“I don’t expect she can stay long this time.”
My hand itched to wrap itself around the phone. At least five calls had come in since I got to the house. Mostly from Selena, who had only placed bronze in jazz dance and was having a major pity party.
But I did want this job. “I can play for a little while,” I told Emmy. “But I’m not very good.”
“I am,” said Emmy as she danced out of the room.
“So.” Ms. Clarkson drank the dregs of Caden’s milk. “I need you Tuesday, Thursday and Friday. From two forty-five until about six. Three hours a day, three days a week.”
You didn’t have to be in honors math to figure out that was more than three hours a day. “That’s fine,” I answered. I could bring it up later. “Do I have to pick them up at school?”
“There’s a car pool,” said Cynthia. “But you must be here when they get dropped off.”
“Sure.”
“I am looking for someone reliable,” she continued. “Basically, you give them a snack, let them watch no more than an hour of TV. They play well on their own. And together.”
“Sounds good.”
“Emmy is pretty steady,” Cynthia told me. “But keep an eye on Caden. He gets into mischief. But nothing too serious. So Tuesday, Thursday and Friday? How is eight dollars an hour?”
Twenty-four bucks a day. Seventy-two a week. How much would that be a month?
Not as much as retail, maybe, but enough to start saving for a trip home. “That’s fine.”
I was hardly out the door before I was on my phone to Selena. There’s always next time. Kno wot? I got a job!! Babysitting 2kids. WDYT?
I had babysitting figured out by my third time. Paper and crayons and scissors kept Emerson happy for hours. Caden was more work. He was always bugging me to “Watch this,” “See what I can do?” or “Come and play.”
Today he kept leaning over to stick his head between mine and my phone while I tried to talk to Josie.
Cs cute. But his sister is way easier. Any tips? Josie has a rash of small cousins.
“Daria.”
R all boyz a pain? I hit Send and watched the screen for Josie’s reply.
“Daria!”
“What?” I nearly caught Caden with my elbow as I turned toward him.
He shoved his juice box at me. “I hate apple juice. It smells like sick. Doesn’t it smell like sick, Emmy?”
“It’s called vomit, if you must know,” she told him. “I like apple better than orange.” She dropped her empty juice box into the recycling bin.
“Vomit. Vomit. Vomit,” crowed Caden. He crammed the last cracker in his mouth. “Vomitvomitvomitvomit,” he chanted as he dashed out of the room and up the stairs.
U talkg all boyz? Josie texted.
Just the 1s I kno!! I havnt met any here, thats 4 sure.
“You’ve had a visitor.” Mom told me when I got home. She shifted the laundry hamper against her hip. “We had a nice chat. She knits!”
“Who knits?”
“Chloe.”
“It’s Cleo,” I told her. “How do you know she knits?”
“I asked about her hat.”
In the past week, I’d not yet seen Cleo bareheaded. Perhaps she was bald.
“I gave her your number,” said Mom. “But she said she would drop by after supper.”
I glanced at my phone, but the only message was from Selena. “I do have homework, you know,” I said.
“Isn’t it about time you made some friends?” said Mom.
“Cleo has piercings, Mother. In case you didn’t notice. Probably tats. You know? Tattoos? Anyway, I have friends.”
Though right now I had no patience for more of Selena’s dance postmortem.
Mom dropped two piles of clothes on the bed. “Friends here, Daria. Not ones that you spend hours with on your phone.”
“First you drag me away from Calgary. Now you won’t let me talk to my friends?”
“You do exaggerate.” Mom sat on the bed. “I simply said that you might make an effort to make friends here.”
“And you think Cleo is a likely candidate?”
“Well, I will admit, she is a little…”
“Weird?”
“Don’t be so judgmental,” said Mom. “She certainly has her own style.”
“She’s in honors math, for Pete’s sake. We have nothing in common.”
“She seemed nice.” Mom picked up the laundry basket. “But far be it from me to suggest who you should have for friends.”
Far be it from you to run my life, I thought as she left the room. I stuffed the clean clothes in the nearest drawer.
All evening, I was alert for every passing car or knock at the front door. I half imagined taking Cleo upstairs, showing her the dresser my grandfather had made. The pictures of the trip Josie and I took with the youth group last summer while Selena was at nature camp.