It gave its head a small toss, spread an enormous pair of wings and lifted off. She heard the scratching sound as its claws left the branch and the whoosh of its wings against the air. It flew right over the car, and she couldn’t see it anymore. Slowly, she came back to herself. Her head was tipped right back on her neck. Her mouth was wide-open. She twitched, pulled herself together and drew her head back inside the car.
Chance was staring right at her. Martha looked back at him for a moment. He didn’t say anything. Well. Let him stare. What did it matter to her? She swung her head back to look out the window again and waited for Doug to drive on.
The hatchery was only about two minutes ahead. They drove through a narrow entrance into a large irregular paved area with a building on their left and a bunch of long cement tanks in front. Doug parked, and Chance had the door open instantly. He practically danced out of the car.
Martha didn’t even put a hand on the door handle. They could make her come, but they could not make her get out of the car. She was staying right where she was.
Angie swung her legs out onto the pavement. Chance was already almost at the tanks. “Chance,” Angie called, “let’s read the sign first.” Doug had started toward a big wooden sign, and Angie was right behind him.
Martha snorted. Read a sign! They thought that Chance should read a sign? That was a joke. This whole trip was a joke. She tucked her feet tight under the seat in front of her and stared at her knees.
“Hey, you guys! Come on!”
Chance was over by the nearest tank, shouting and waving his arms. “You guys! You’ve got to see this!” And as he said the last words, something flashed behind him, something he had not seen, but Martha had. She stared past him at the tank and willed it to happen again.
A fish. A fish jumped up out of the tank and into view, right into the air. Chance saw that one and began leaping about in addition to all the shouting and arm-waving. With as much dignity as she could muster, Martha opened the car door and got out. Angie and Doug were rushing to Chance’s side. Martha was not about to run. But whatever was in that tank, she might as well see it. She might as well.
Still, she couldn’t help herself, she pulled back a bit when she looked in, and her face opened up into surprise and excitement. The tank was full of fish: great big fish with weird pointy noses. They were trying to swim, all in the same direction, but the tank ended and they could go no farther. Every little while, in an extra effort, a burst of strength and determination, a fish leaped into the air.
“Chum,” Chance said. “They’re chum salmon. They’re here to spawn.” He looked at Martha. “You know. Lay eggs and fertilize them.”
Martha glared at him. What did he think she was, a moron?
They could have pulled out her fingernails, and she would not have admitted it, but she loved everything about the hatchery. Everything, that is, except for the bouncy boy who never allowed a moment’s silence. So she lagged behind. She let Chance and Doug and Angie discover everything together. And she discovered the same things afterward, alone: the spot where the fish had to slither or jump up a level to get into the tank; the spot where tank turned to stream; the realization that the fish were swimming upstream, against the current. Other tanks, higher up and covered with netting, held tiny fish. Fry, Martha thought, surprised at herself for remembering and filled with joy at the sight of all those tiny, tiny creatures. She turned to continue on her way and stopped to look at the narrow, swift-moving stream running under a pretty wooden bridge.
She walked forward, stood on the bridge and gazed down into the tumbling water. Something shot forward. A fish had just swum under the bridge. Martha turned quickly and saw it swim on upstream, another fish close beside. She turned back and stared into the water some more. The bottom of the stream was covered in round orange spheres.
Eggs.
The salmon were spawning! They really were!
Not far beyond the bridge, a pier was built out into a big pond surrounded by trees. Doug and Angie and Chance were leaning over a railing pointing at something in the water. Angie had her camera in her hands. That must be the sturgeon pond.
Martha watched the stream some more, waiting for the others to move on. They did not. At last, she left the bridge and wandered in their direction. Doug looked up and beckoned, his smile enormous. Martha hung back.
The others stayed where they were, held by whatever they saw in that water. Eventually, she stepped off the dirt path onto the wooden pier. Chance looked up. “Hey!” he said. “You’ve got to see this.”
Every bit of Martha rebelled at seeing anything that Chance had seen first. At least, every bit but the soles of her feet, because they kept lifting off and setting down and carrying her closer and closer. “Come on,” he whispered as she approached, “she’s just here now.” Martha took the last three steps a little faster and grasped the railing, leaning out over the water and looking down into the stillness past her reflection and Chance’s beside her. Then she saw it. Gliding through the water, smooth and sleek and enormous, was a sturgeon. It was gray— gray and calm and beautiful. She leaned out a little farther.
“Isn’t it amazing?” Chance said.
Martha nodded dreamily. She agreed.
That night, back in her bedroom, she lay awake for a long time, pondering. Birds and fish, fish and birds. Her brain teemed with living things.
CHAPTER 8
Real Mom
The following weeks passed in a blur of schoolwork (most of it somehow sturgeon-related) and helping out at home while Mom rested. Martha learned to load and unload the dishwasher all by herself. She made her own lunches. She picked out her own clothes.
She still had to pass inspection, though, before she left the house. Each morning, Martha matched: green tights with a green striped shirt; a purple skirt with a white top with purple embroidery around the neck and sleeves, and a purple headband. She felt a rush of comforting warmth when her mother smiled and reached a hand out to stroke her arm.
“You look lovely, Martha,” Mom would say. “Do you have a piece of fruit in your lunch?”
Martha would smile back. “An apple,” she would reply, or “a cut-up orange. And carrots too.”
Those were the best moments of the day.
December arrived. The baby was due in less than two months now. And fish were eclipsed by all the celebrations of the season: Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, winter solstice, Ramadan. Usually Martha loved every bit of it, all the music and color at school, along with the building excitement at home.
This year, though, the excitement at home was missing.
Martha and Dad finally put up the tree in the middle of the month, two weeks later than usual. And they did it on their own, with Mom watching from the couch, so it did not look as good as it usually did, even though everything matched—the red lights, the red and gold ornaments. The tree came from a catalogue and was supposed to be one of the best artificial trees you could buy. It was almost brand-new, but when Martha and Dad were done, it looked a little odd, just a bit crooked, perhaps.
“Thank you for doing that,” Mom said when they were done and Dad had made them all hot chocolate. “I can’t imagine Christmas without a tree!”
Martha was pretty sure that—doctor’s instructions or no doctor’s instructions—Mom had been aching to get up there and do it properly.
As for the usual gifts with their expensive wrapping paper and pretty ribbons, there were none under the tree yet. But surely they would show up before Christmas did. Surely they would. Mom wasn’t up to much shopping though, and Dad was a terrible shopper, so Martha kept reminding herself not to expect much.
Linda was supposed to pick Martha up the day before Christmas Eve, and she was late, as usual. Martha was up in her room when the doorbell rang. She wouldn’t go. She just wouldn’t. But she knew she had to.
She looked at herself in the mirror.
Tonight, she had decided, she was going to dress to please herself, not her mot
her. She felt a little worried about what Mom would say, but it was exciting to root through her drawers and closet trying different combinations. What she came up with had flair. It really did! She was wearing navy tights, a black corduroy skirt with a beaded panel down one side, a plain deep blue long-sleeved shirt and a purple velvet tank top. As a final touch, she twisted a thick strand of her hair and used a sparkly clip to hold it in place. Her favorite boots would complete the ensemble.
“Congratulations!” Mom was saying to Linda downstairs when Martha came out of her room.
Martha paused, still out of sight at the top of the stairs.
“We’re not going to make a big deal of it,” Linda said.
Of what?
“We’re thinking we might just go off to Hawaii.”
“Mmm. That would be nice,” Mom said. “Peter and I got married on the beach in Maui. Barefoot!”
Married? Already?
“Martha!” Mom called. “Linda is here.”
Martha backed up a step. “I’m coming!” she shouted, louder than need be.
In the car, they had barely pulled away from the curb before Linda turned all the way around in her seat. While she was driving. “Brad and I are getting married,” she said, her face alight.
Martha forced a smile and pointed to an oncoming car. Linda turned her eyes back to the road. Now that Martha thought about it, Linda had seemed a lot happier when they had seen each other in October. Martha had thought it was because her mom wasn’t with them. Now she realized that it had probably been because of Brad. She sniffed cautiously. The smell of smoke in the car was almost gone. Had Linda quit smoking?
“That’s nice,” Martha said, far too long after Linda’s announcement. “When?”
“Soon, I think,” Linda said. “It depends on Brad. On when he can get away for a bit.”
“Oh,” Martha said.
The conversation stalled. Linda drove in silence and pulled into the parking lot of their trusty Denny’s.
Seats were found. Food was ordered. Food was received.
“I can’t miss school,” Martha said.
“Miss school?” Linda echoed.
“You know. For Hawaii. The flower girl. I might not be able to…”
Linda had been staring at her, but now she looked down at her plate.
“Oh, honey, it’s going to be the tiniest little wedding. Only Brad’s parents and his brother, really.” She met Martha’s eyes. “And you’re quite right not to want to miss school. There’s nothing more important than education!”
The last words were hard and shiny, like a string of plastic beads popping out of Linda’s mouth all in a rush. And Martha understood. They had never intended to take her with them to Hawaii. Never.
I didn’t want to go anyway, she reminded herself as she took another bite. She stopped midchew. Linda was staring at something over Martha’s shoulder, and that something had spread a great big mushy smile all over her face.
“Brad!” she said, but Martha had already guessed.
He had snuck up on them somehow: a big, darkhaired, bearded man in a brown leather jacket who bent down and kissed Linda full on the mouth before turning toward Martha, his face one huge toothy grin. Brad.
“You must be Martha,” he said, reaching for her with two great paws.
He wants to hug me, Martha thought, and she glued her back firmly to the back of the bench, arms tight at her sides. Brad drew away, just a bit.
“Brad, this is my daughter, Martha!” Linda said. “And Martha, this is my fiancé, Brad!”
“It’s nice to meet you, Brad,” Martha said, her voice quiet.
“You too, young lady! You too.”
Young lady? Yuck!
Brad had his hand on Linda’s shoulder, but he didn’t sit down. “It took me almost an hour to get here. Traffic. I’ll be back in a minute.” And he took off toward the washrooms.
“So, what do you think?” Linda said as soon as he was out of sight.
“Think?” Martha echoed. She dragged her eyes from Linda’s stomach, which she’d noticed was a bit poochy under her T-shirt—what if Linda was pregnant too?—up to her glowing face.
“Of Brad, honey!” Linda said, brows raised and lips stretched into an eager smile.
She was so eager, Martha was almost embarrassed for her.
“He’s…”
She paused and heard Linda take a breath.
“He’s nice.”
Linda’s eyes widened. “Yeah, he really is! He’s going to be a good husband. And maybe, one day, a good father too!”
Martha tensed. She already had a father. Then she looked at Linda’s stomach again. Linda was not referring to her. She was referring to a new baby, Linda and Brad’s baby.
Martha’s own birth father swam, uninvited, into her mind. She did not think about him often. Linda had never told her who her he was. Sometimes she thought that Linda didn’t even know. Martha had heard of that. Or maybe he was dead.
Dead.
Martha concentrated on that word. It was so flat and strong and even.
And there was Brad, back at the table, very much alive, but not her father, kissing Linda once again, firmly, on the mouth, which was just gross, grinning way too much and sliding himself onto the bench beside Linda.
“Did you tell her about Kelowna?” he said right away, before he even picked up a menu.
“Kelowna?” Martha echoed. “I thought you were getting married in Maui.”
Linda put a hand on Brad’s arm, but he had already started talking. “Yes, we’re getting married in Maui, but we’re moving to Kelowna. I grew up there. Great town!”
Martha sank a little deeper onto the bright orange Denny’s bench.
His words were even harder than Linda’s. They fell out of his mouth onto the table like great big stones.
“Moving?”
“That’s right. Surrey just isn’t the best place for Linda. She needs a fresh start. And my mother loves her. Just loves her.”
What did he mean? Why did Linda need a fresh start?
“There’s lots of construction work there for me,” he said. “And we can live with the parents for a while. Mom can use Linda’s help. And then maybe we’ll rent a little house.”
Martha felt sick. Kelowna would mean overnight visits. She had never once spent the night with Linda.
“So I won’t be able to see you as often,” Linda said softly.
Martha felt herself spiraling downward, a whooshing feeling in the back of her head. She waited for the parachute to open, but it did not. Linda’s eyes were not hungry anymore. Her chest had filled out a bit since October. New husbands. New homes. New babies. Her mothers were abandoning her.
Martha was shocked to find herself smiling and nodding.
She ordered a sundae.
“You’re just picking at your dessert,” Linda said a bit later, around a mouthful of brownie.
Martha shoved her feelings aside once again and took a small bite.
Brad lifted a forkful of blueberry pie and laughed. “Our kid, when we have one…he’s going to be a big eater!”
Martha took another tiny bite, but it seemed reluctant to go down her throat. By the time the bill came, her ice cream and butterscotch sauce was a big melted mess.
They left Linda’s car behind in the parking lot. “We’ll pick it up on the way back to my place,” Brad said.
Martha shuddered. She didn’t want to think about anybody going to anybody’s place.
In the backseat of Brad’s car, she wondered what it would be like if they kidnapped her. What if the car continued on past her house, onto the freeway toward Hope? She was pretty sure that was the way to Kelowna.
She would jump out at the first stoplight, she decided. Then she caught her breath. What if the car had those kid-locks? She’d be trapped. She thought some more.
A cell phone. Brad must have a cell phone. She’d steal it and call home.
Martha looked out the car window. She had to
keep track of her location so she could describe it. The location was familiar. Brad slowed down and turned left, and Martha realized they’d just come from a different direction than she was used to. There was her house, same as always. The car pulled to a stop, and Linda swiveled in her seat and reached a hand back in Martha’s direction.
No kidnapping then.
Martha’s eyes stung. She wanted to slug that man in the back of the head. How dared they so cheerfully get married and move away? And who cared anyway? She hoped she never saw either of them again. Never!
“Your Christmas present is in that little bag on the seat next to you,” Linda said. “I think we might be moving before you and I are supposed to meet in February. I’ll call Denise and tell her all our plans. We’ll sort things out.”
My mom, Martha thought. You’ll call my mom. Not Denise! Martha wished she was brave enough to say the words out loud.
She opened the door and slid out of the car, the Christmas bag dangling from one hand. Her body felt like cement.
“So long, kid,” Brad said, looking over his shoulder.
Linda was beside the car too. She held out her arms. “Come here, honey,” she said. “Come here and give me a hug.”
Martha dragged her heavy body and her stinging eyes around the car door and into Linda’s arms. Linda smelled faintly of sweat and some flowery perfume. Martha ordered her own arms to hug back. And then it was done.
“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart?
“I’ll call Denise soon.”
“Yeah, okay,” Martha said, the muscles in her back stiffening further. She’s my mom. My mom. My mom! She watched Linda swing her legs back into the car, close the door and open the window.
“Goodbye,” Brad called as the car pulled away.
“Goodbye, honey.” That was Linda, of course.
“Goodbye,” Martha said, but she was pretty sure her voice was too quiet for them to hear.
Somebody's Girl (Orca Young Readers) Page 5
