by Don Aker
Home is the place where, when you have to go there,
They have to take you in.
Reef wondered if that was what home was for Alex. Hoped it wasn’t true. But he couldn’t get those words out of his head when he and Alex said goodbye for the last time.
Others had drifted out of his life too. Like Scar, who had always been smarter than any of them and had proven it in January when she’d completed her grade twelve at the end of the first semester. On the recommendation of her principal, a guidance counselor and Glen Whidden, she’d been accepted into Business at Queen’s University in Kingston, Ontario, and was admitted to courses that were already in session. Although her outstanding performance in her advanced high school courses didn’t guarantee her success, everyone was confident she could make the transition. The principal had even managed to get her some scholarship and bursary money, and he’d put her in touch with a friend in Kingston, who’d offered her a part-time job to help with living expenses.
Scar had been embarrassed when she’d told them the news. “It’s not like I have to go. guys,” she’d said. “I don’t even know if I want to—”
But Bigger hadn’t let her finish. “You’d better want to!” he’d bellowed, grabbing her and tossing her into the air like a three year old. “You turn down a chance like this and I’ll kick your ass!”
Jink had been less enthusiastic. “You probably won’t even wanna talk to goons like us any more,” he’d sulked, but he’d agreed with Bigger that she’d be crazy not to go. And so had Reef. Anything that got her away from her old man was a good thing, and education was the only thing that could deliver any of them from the hardscrabble existence their families had known.
So she had gone. They’d seen her off at the train station, her two bags like orphans on the crowded platform. Her father, of course, hadn’t come, and her mother left the station long before the train did. But Jink and Bigger made so much commotion that bystanders thought there were twenty people seeing her off. She hugged them all goodbye, including Reef. She didn’t kiss him, and he was grateful for that. He was even happier to get her second letter, the onetelling about the guy she’d met in her Financial Accounting class. If anyone deserved a new life, a decent life, it was Scar. He’d traced his fingers slowly over her signature, lingering over the second syllable she’d finally chosen to use.
It was weird to think of her in Ontario, but he’d already gotten used to not seeing her much after starting at his new school in September. The same was true of Jink and Bigger. They’d called a few times, and he got together with them once in a while, but he was busy trying to keep his marks up and fulfilling the other conditions of his probation. Like extracurriculars. Judge Thomas was wrong about one thing—he was lousy at track and field. But he surprised himself by turning out to be a better-than-average soccer player and, more recently, an excellent volleyball player. He’d led the volleyball team in points all season, and he’d even scored the tie-breaking and match points that had earned the Bonavista Bravehearts the provincial title the previous weekend. The team’s picture appeared in the newspaper, and the guys at North Hills made a big deal about it, buying a dozen copies of the paper and putting the picture up everywhere. Reef was pleased, but for another reason, too. He hoped that Leeza would see the photo and maybe call to congratulate him. But, of course, he was just kidding himself.
His ability to kick and volley a ball with almost unerring accuracy confounded both his coaches, who found it difficult to believe he hadn’t played either oftheir sports before. Although he didn’t share it with them, Reef attributed his success to the considerable target practise he’d got throwing rocks over the years. Yes. the mechanics of kicking and volleying were different than those involved in throwing, but an instinct for distance and direction was crucial in both sports. In rock-throwing, too.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the object he’d carried with him to each of his presentations. He’d found it the day before school started, when Bigger had borrowed his brother’s car and driven all four of them out to Crystal Crescent Beach to celebrate the last day of summer vacation. It hadn’t turned out to be much of a celebration, though. Jink’s injuries were still healing, and all that walking over rocks and sand had turned out to be an ordeal for him. To make matters worse, Bigger had decided it would be fun to harass nude sunbathers, and before Reef and Scar could stop him, he’d grabbed some clothes and strewn them all along the beach—only to discover that the clothing belonged to a young swimsuit-wearing family who were playing in the surf. It was a windy day, and it had taken the four friends nearly an hour to recover everything.
While retrieving a lost sandal, Reef had spied something near the water’s edge and thought for a moment that he was seeing a single black eye. The stone was almost perfectly round, its edges polished smooth by waves and wind, and it fit perfectly in the palm of hishand. He hefted it, saw in his mind’s eye the smooth arc it would make when he launched it out over the waves, and then slipped it into his pocket.
The Park Street overpass was still visible in the mirror as he curled his fingers around the stone. That afternoon at Crystal Crescent Beach on the last day of summer, he hadn’t known why he’d chosen to keep it. He still didn’t know. All that mattered now was that he had. It was the first stone he’d found since his grandmother had died that he hadn’t flung as far as he could. Hadn’t wanted to. Hadn’t needed to. He held it tight in his hand as he watched the road unfurl toward home.
Acknowledgements
I wish to thank my agent and good friend, Leona Trainer, for her integrity and unfailing encouragement. Thanks as well to my very talented editor, Lynne Missen, whose expertise and humour always make the process of finding my way through a story enlightening and enjoyable. Finally, I want to thank Kelly Barro and the health care workers like her who helped me explore the physical and emotional journey of rehabilitation. They are the true heroes of this book.
Author’s Note
Every piece of fiction I’ve ever written—whether novel or short story—has grown out of something that has bothered me, kept me awake at night, wouldn’t leave me alone. As I was mulling over ideas for a third novel, the daughter of a friend was killed when a stolen vehicle, driven by a teenager trying to evade police in a high-speed chase, struck her car. Following this tragedy, I couldn’t stop wondering how that teenager might cope with the knowledge that his recklessness had cost a life and irrevocably altered the lives of many others. Before long, I had a character in mind, a teenager with absolutely no regard for the well-being of others who commits an act that results in the death of an innocent bystander. As I continued to think about him, though, I began to see other possibilities for the story and to wonder how my character would handle having to deal firsthand with the results of his actions, actually having to face the person he has hurt—not killed—and to try to make restitution. It was at this point that I knew I had my story.
Although the seeds of The First Stone are real, this book is fiction. To allow my story to unfold within a workable time frame. I took liberties with the judicial system. As well, the people and most of the places in the novel live only in my mind, which is why you’ll find references to streets and buildings in Halifax that do not exist. My apologies to the people of this wonderful city for altering its landscape.
Copyright
The First Stone
© 2003 by Don Aker.
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EPub Edition © OCTOBER 2010 ISBN: 978144
3401425
Excerpts from “The Death of the Hired Man” from the poetry of robert frost, edited by Edward Connery Lathem. Copyright 1930, 1939, © 1969 by Henry Holt and Co., © 1967 by Lesley Frost Ballantine, © 1958 by Robert Frost. Reprinted by permission of Henry Holt and Company, LLC.
This Is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to people living or dead Is entirely coincidental.
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First published in paperback by HarperTrophyCanada™, an Imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd, 2003. This mass market paperback edition 2004.
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Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Aker, Don, 1955-
The first stone / Don Aker.
1st mass market pbk. ed.
ISBN 0-00-639286-5
1. Title.
PS8551.K46F57 2004 jC813’.54
C2004-903498-7
IMS 98
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