An orange taxicab came into view, turning the corner ahead of her, its bright headlights cutting into her line of vision, blinding her for a second. As it neared and pulled in beside the broken curb in front of her, Samantha stole a peek behind her to see the sedan slow down. This was her chance. She raced past the cab and ran as fast as she could, taking the corner. Heart racing and blood pounding in her ears, she scanned her surroundings until at last she saw something familiar: the coffee shop she had visited with Ben. Its soft, beckoning glow seemed to pull her across the street and into safety.
Panting to catch her breath and regain her bearings as she entered, she slid into the booth closest to the door. Taking off her fogged-up glasses and placing them on the table, she covered her face with trembling hands, her knees shaking like jelly.
“Hey Samantha, something wrong?”
She looked up quickly. Ben sat two tables away, with a young man she had never seen before sitting opposite him. They both looked at her, curiously amused. She struggled to regain her composure, thinking it was probably futile. “I’m not sure, but I think someone was following me.” She looked out the large picture window and into the darkening street.
“Probably a guy looking for a last-minute date,” Ben’s companion said with a lopsided grin. “Join us?” He slid over on the bench seat, making room for her.
Samantha shrugged. Very well, make me feel like I overreacted and I was never in any danger. Thanks for that, strange boy with the pale blue eyes. And yet, she was ever so grateful for their company at this moment. She sat down with them, looking to Ben, trying to quell her jangling nerves.
“Er, sorry,” Ben said. “Where are my manners? This is Samantha, one of the new girls I was telling you about. Samantha, this is my buddy, Kalen.”
Samantha looked warily at the boy, first noticing his light moustache and scruffy goatee. His cool blue gaze gave her the once-over, making her feel vulnerable all over again. It felt as if his eyes were looking through her clothes and sizing up every inch of her, and taking their sweet time to do it. She considered his dark blond hair a little too long and stringy for her taste. Briefly, she wondered if he was trying to look like an anti-hero. A Kurt Cobain wannabe, most likely.
Ben asked if he could get her something, but she declined. She hadn’t eaten since lunch, but she was afraid they would see her hands shaking if she did.
“Veronica called me earlier,” Ben told her. “Asked me to drop over tonight. I thought Kalen could tag along and we could have some laughs or whatever.”
So what was she supposed to do now? Say no, and sound like a wet blanket? A typical wallflower on a Friday night? She had no alternative but to go along. The next thing she knew, she was staring out the window from the back seat of the Thunderbird, stereo blaring, whizzing through the winding downtown streets. She was certain Ben was driving well over the speed limit. And here came an intersection.
“That’s a red light!” she yelled. “Aren’t you going to slow down?”
Just in time, Ben screeched to a stop. He and Kalen laughed when the driver crossing in front of them gave them the finger.
“Arsehole!” Ben shouted in his direction, his hands clenching the steering wheel.
“Must be in a charitable mood tonight, hey, by?” Kalen ribbed. “Or you’d be followin’ him and rippin’ him a new one.” Ben returned the rude gesture, and they both laughed as the other car sped away.
Along their route, the boys stopped at a house to pick up a young woman with short purple hair, a sleeveless denim vest, and a nose ring. An elaborate sleeve tattoo covered her right arm. Samantha stared at her in fascination. They explained that she wasn’t joining their party. She was their beer buyer as she was well past the legal drinking age, and for a price she would procure the alcohol for them.
“I don’t drink, you guys,” Samantha managed in a small voice when they finally arrived at her house, but no one seemed to notice. Veronica hung up the phone as the three of them walked in.
“That was Momma calling from work to see if you came home yet,” she said, looking Samantha over. “I told her you were back, and that you were fine.” Veronica turned away from her, her face lighting up when she saw the case of beer under Ben’s arm. “Ooh, yeah! Beverages! Seems you thought of everything.” She sidled up to Ben, slipping her arm possessively through his. “Who’s your friend? I didn’t know you were bringing anyone along.”
After he made the introductions, Ben sat down at the table and reached for the beer case. “Kalen is going to grade twelve this fall too,” he said as he opened beers with the tail of his plaid shirt.
“What school will you be going to, Veronica?” Kalen asked.
“Bishop’s College,” Veronica and Samantha answered together.
“Cool. I’ll probably be sharing some classes with you then.” He smiled, tipping back his beer, lowering it from his lips when it was nearly empty. He let out a loud burp. “How brainy are you?” he asked, eyes twinkling at Veronica while he stroked his goatee. “Gonna let me copy your notes?”
“Nah, Sammie here inherited the book smarts in this family,” she said, flicking her hair behind her shoulders as she accepted the beer Ben offered. “I get by on a wing and a prayer.”
Funny how Veronica could make that sound super cool, Samantha mused.
Kalen winked at Samantha. “Maybe you can help me with my homework then,” he said.
She held his gaze for a moment before her own skittered away. Don’t bet on it, buddy. Let me at least get to know you first, before I agree to become your tutor or study partner. Junior high all over again?
“Yup, little Sammie is the one with her face shoved in a book all the time, aren’t you, sis?” Veronica said, her eyes teasing. “Even on summer holidays. My interests, on the other hand, have nothing to do with books and the like.” She guzzled down half of her beer as if in explanation.
Samantha glared at her. You little tart. I’m darn well positive you don’t have to explain yourself to these guys. They know your type. “I’m not about to apologize to anybody for enjoying a good read,” she responded. Why did Ronnie always depict her as someone who didn’t know how to have fun? “Jeez, I haven’t seen you open a book since you owned crayons.”
The boys tittered. “Good one, Sammie,” Kalen said.
Veronica licked her tongue out at her. “Bite me.”
Kalen picked up Samantha’s camera from the sideboard where she had placed it earlier. “Who owns this? Any film in it?” he asked with interest.
Samantha nodded. “It’s mine. There’s a little left on the roll. Go ahead, take some of us, if you like.”
Kalen didn’t have to be told twice. After Samantha showed him the basics on how to use it, he told them to keep chatting while he took a few candid shots. Samantha much preferred to be on the other side of the lens, but he seemed so eager, she smiled whenever the flash went off in her direction. When he had finished the roll, he helped himself to another brew.
“So you girls are from Calmer Cove?” Kalen asked. “I’ve got family over there on the Port au Port peninsula. Except they call it Calmer, without the Cove.”
“Yep, that’s what the locals call it,” Veronica said with a grin. “Too lazy to tack on the Cove.”
“I spent a few summers there when I was a squirt,” Kalen said, “staying with Uncle Gordon and Aunt Floss. The thing was, my poor aunt used to have fits all the time, you know, epileptic seizures. Uncle Gord had to watch her like a friggin’ hawk, to make sure she didn’t fall or choke or anything. So he decided to hang a new French door on the bathroom. That way he could keep an eye on Aunt Flossie whenever she got in the bathtub or used the toilet.”
Veronica giggled. “A French door! But why put up a door at all, then?”
“Well,” Kalen said, “I imagine to block the sound…and the smell.”
After the laughter subsided, Ben said, “Kalen, are you moving out of that basement apartment yet?”
“Yeah, but no
t until the beginning of August. I’m moving in with Rita.”
“You mean your mom.”
Kalen grinned, his long hair partially hiding his face. “Right. My mom. You see, girls, my sister had me and my mother and father reared me up.”
Ben chuckled. “What he actually means is that his mother had him when she was fifteen, and his grandparents raised him. Rita finally got her shit together, eh?”
“Pretty much. Finally got rid of Randy, that loser cop boyfriend of hers. She’s moved out of the women’s shelter, and got her own digs for once. So now she’s got room for me in her life.”
Samantha felt a stab of pity for the young man sprawled out in the kitchen chair. It struck her how they all had some sort of pathetic story.
“And good riddance to the bloody carpenters. Damn bugs, the apartment is literally crawling with them everywhere. You wake up in the morning, put your feet on the floor, and the carpenters will carry you right out to the kitchen. Don’t have to make a step.”
Samantha and Veronica laughed. “Yikes!” said Samantha, picturing it. “And your parents—I mean your grandparents—are staying there?”
“They’re looking for a better place too. It’s a real dive. Mom—uh, that’s my Nan—said the final straw was finding one of the little black buggers in her gravy last Sunday.”
“Gross!” Veronica and Ben said in unison.
“Hey, where’s the music you promised?” Ben asked, raising an eyebrow at Veronica.
“Coming right up,” Veronica said, disappearing into the hall. In short order, the house was rollicking with a loud alternative rock beat. Upon returning, she pulled her chair even closer to Ben’s and smiled. “Do you mind if I ask how you got that cute little scar?”
Ben’s hand touched his cheek as if by reflex. “Playing hockey last winter. I accidentally used my face to stop a slap shot.”
“Ouch,” Samantha said.
“Leave it to a woman to call a scar cute,” Kalen said, making moves as if to unzip his jeans. “Come ’ere, I got a scar I can show ya. Even cuter.”
“Knock it off, Kalen,” Ben said, laughing. “Come on, Samantha, have a beer before we have ’em all drank,” he coaxed.
“No thanks,” she said, not sure anyone could hear her over the loud music. Her stomach was now beyond empty, making her feel lightheaded. She wondered if Darlene had kept any supper for her.
As if reading her mind, Kalen asked, “Anyone in the mood for a slice of pizza?” He rummaged through his pockets, pulling out some crumpled bills and odd bits of loose change, flicking it all on the table.
“I am!” Samantha piped up.
“Kalen, you’re gonna turn into a pizza,” Ben said. “That all you ever eat, man?”
“Great idea,” Veronica said, nudging Ben with her shoulder. “Didn’t I see a pizzeria just down the street? Come on, we’ll all chip in.”
“No need,” Ben said. “We can cover it. Our treat. Call in our order for a delivery, Kalen.”
“Okay. Lots of pepperoni and extra cheese good with everyone?”
“Yeah,” they chorused in agreement.
“Wow! You actually drew those? I mean you didn’t trace them or anything?”
Samantha tried to see the two pieces of artwork on her bedroom wall through Kalen’s eyes. She grinned as she put her camera away in its case. “No, I drew them, with no tracing. They’re drawn from my photographs, though, not living models.” She blushed, realizing the minute she said it how unlikely it would have been to get a willing Springsteen to sit and pose for her. She smiled at the mental picture.
For her entire life in Calmer, she’d shared a room, and even a bed, with Ronnie. It was all very fine when they were little girls who played together and got along most of the time. But as the sisters grew older, Ronnie had increasingly gotten on her very last nerve with her clothes taking up most of the closet, her noisy chatter, and her perpetual untidiness. Samantha had never had a bedroom to herself until now. If there was one saving grace from this move, this had to be the best part of it: having a space to arrange, to have full reign over, and to call her very own.
She watched Kalen as he looked around her little room. They had been hanging out in the living room talking about music and hobbies, which led to her suggesting a viewing of her art. So odd to have a guy in here. She felt a bit exposed. She would rather it was Ben instead, but of course he was too busy talking to Ronnie.
“Maybe we should go down with—with the others now,” she stammered. “Come on.”
But when they checked the living room, and then the kitchen, Ronnie and Ben were nowhere to be seen. The pizza box lay open on the table with a couple of congealing slices left in it, and the beer case on the floor was refilled with empties. Fast drinkers. Samantha heard her sister’s high, tinkling giggles coming from her own room, floating down with the music. The bedroom door was closed.
“Looks like they were waiting for the chance to make a getaway,” Kalen said. He brushed aside the lengths of hair that kept sliding into his eyes, looking uncertain as to what to do next. Samantha was surprised to find herself warming to him a little.
“So your mother used to go out with a police officer. Why did you call him a loser?”
Kalen looked up quickly. “He’s a bell head and a son of a bitch, is what he is, with a vicious temper. Liked to use Rita as his personal punching bag. And he made no secret that he didn’t want me around at all.”
Samantha stared at him. “That’s awful. How did she get clear of him?”
“She had to go to St. Clare’s Emerge at the end of it. Fractured rib, black eye, the whole scene.” Kalen gritted his teeth, looking away. “She threatened to go to his chief if he wouldn’t leave her be, and I guess he finally believed her.”
“Do you know Ben very well?” she asked. Persistent images of her sister getting in over her head filled her mind. But then, Veronica had lots of experience with boys; she probably knew what she was doing.
“I’ve known him for about a year. Most of the time he’s great, sure. But other times he seems to go off somewhere in his own head, you know? A touch moody. He told me his mom took off last year. I would say it has something to do with that.” Kalen looked sideways at Samantha. “And his father works full time, and he has no brothers and sisters. So that leaves him on his own a fair bit.”
“He sees his mother, though, I imagine. Do they visit each other?”
“I assume so, yeah. Once when I was leaving his house, a missus showed up who looked like him. Must have been her.”
Samantha wrapped her arms around her chest, hugging herself. The conversation and laughter coming from her sister’s bedroom had subsided, and the music had been turned up. Another ugly twinge of jealousy jabbed at her.
“You’re very different from her, aren’t you?” Kalen asked.
“Ya think?” she responded, forcing a laugh.
“I know one thing. You are very talented for someone your age, Samantha Cross. I have a feeling there’s a lot more to you than meets the eye.”
Samantha cringed a little, hoping he wasn’t trying to make a move on her. Time to put a stop to that. “I’m kind of exhausted,” she said, smothering a yawn with her hand. “Do you mind if we call it a night?”
“Sure,” he said easily, turning to grab his jacket off the back of a chair. “I’ll walk home; it’s not far.”
He reached out and gave her a gentle cuff on the arm. “Really nice meeting you, Sammie. Hope I see you around.”
Samantha carefully bolted the door behind him, wondering how much longer Ben would stay. Her mother wouldn’t return for hours yet. She straightened up the kitchen, hiding the beer bottles beside the deep freeze near the back door. Not missing the irony, she still didn’t want it to be the first thing greeting her mother when she got home.
Chapter Six
Samantha hums a little tune, admiring the carrot cake she baked this morning. Her first effort, and how nicely it turned out! Momma is going to be s
o surprised. Applying the finishing touches to the homemade butter frosting, she licks the knife, and hunts through the cupboard. She turns to see her Nana barrelling toward her. “Where are the birthday candles, Nana?” she asks. “Do we have any left, or—”
“You are a bad child!” Nana barks, her large, meaty hand raised. Down it comes, slapping the knife from Samantha’s hand. “It’s not your birthday!”
“No, Nana, it’s Momma’s,” she cries, shielding her face from her grandmother’s repeated smacks. “Why are you hurting me?”
“Just wait until your grandfather gets in from fishing, if you think I’m vexed.”
“But Nana, Poppy’s been dead for years!”
For a moment, Nana stops and looks at her, her face puzzled, then looks around the kitchen as if she lost something. She lunges for the counter, pushes Samantha out of the way, and picks up the cake with both hands. She strides to the garbage bucket next to the back door and drops it in, the creamy butter frosting smudging the wall on the way down.
Samantha stares, dumbfounded. “NOOO…”
***
Glowering at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, Samantha yanked a brush through a traffic jam of knots and tangles. Her mop of hair had a mind of its own, refusing to be tamed into any acceptable style, no matter how much she wrestled with it. Out of control. Much like her life.
Darlene searched through the vanity drawer beside her.
“Who in the name of Moses did I inherit this from, this cotton candy shit that passes for hair?” Samantha wailed. “None of you have it!” She flung the brush down, replacing her hairband with a groan. She thought of Ronnie’s gorgeous mane. “And look, I have enough on my head for four or five of me.”
Calmer Girls Page 5
