Fruit (15 page)

“I won’t let you down, Virgin,” I whispered. “You’ll see how good I am.”

My nipples twitched underneath my shirt.

I decided right then and there that I couldn’t have any more Bedtime Movies. They were evil. Devil films, as Mr. Mitchell might say.

When my car breaks down in front of Mr. Hanlan’s house and he comes out in his red Speedo to help, I yell, “Stop!” really loudly in my head. “Go back into the house! I can walk to my photo shoot!”

Mr. Hanlan looks kind of hurt. I hope he understands how important this is for me. “It’s not you!” I call out to him. “It’s me!”

But I don’t know if he hears me. He’s already gone back inside.

seven

Christmas isn’t much fun anymore. I’m too old for toys and too young to get anything expensive, like a car. Not that my parents have the money to buy me a car, but you never know. When I get my licence in a couple of years, we could be a lot richer than we are now.

This year, my Christmas list is pretty short. I’m asking for a Stephen King book, a new pair of slippers, a new bathrobe, an Italian cookbook, a new sweatshirt (Sears catalogue, page 135, Item 331 786 29ya, size large, colour ash grey, although black is okay), and an inflatable chair. I don’t really have the space in my bedroom for an inflatable chair, but I figure I’ll deal with that if I get it.

The week before Christmas, the holiday tips from my paper route customers came rolling in. All in all, I made seventy-six dollars this year, which is up from sixty-eight in Christmas ‘83. I also got six boxes of chocolates, thirteen Christmas cards, three McDonald’s gift certificate books, and an apple head doll from Mrs. Guutweister. I almost died when Mr. Hanlan gave me a ten-dollar bill and told me to have a Merry Christmas.

“Dan, you shouldn’t have,” I wanted to say. But all I could manage was a stupid “Thanks.”

I was about to turn away when Mr. Hanlan said, “Do you have any special plans for the holidays?”

I couldn’t believe it! Mr. Hanlan was trying to make conversation!

“Um, not really,” I said. “You know, the usual. Church. And turkey. And maybe some Christmas crackers. That’s about it.”

I took a deep breath and squeezed the ten-dollar bill in my fist. “Do. You. Have. Any. Special. Plans?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Mr. Hanlan said. “Probably about the same as you. Although I can’t say I like turkey.”

I was just about to lie and say, “Me, too!” when evil Mrs. Hanlan poked her head from behind Mr. Hanlan’s shoulder.

“Hi Peter,” she said in this really fake voice. “Happy holidays.”

“Same to you,” I said. Why did she always have to ruin everything?

“Dan, did you tell Peter about us going away?”

“No, I hadn’t mentioned it.”

“We’re going away in January,” Mrs. Hanlan said to me, “so we’ll be stopping the paper for a week.”

“Going to a troubled marriage camp?” I wanted to ask. “It’ll never work.”

“Okay,” I said.

“We’ll be gone from the 10th to the 17th. Just so you know.”

“Okay,” I said. “Not a problem.”

“I hope you have a great Christmas, Peter,” she said.

“You don’t even know the real meaning of Christmas,” I said through a mental telepathy message.

“Excuse me?” Mrs. Hanlan was smiling, but in a weird way. I froze. Did I say something out loud or was Mrs. Hanlan able to read my thoughts? I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d been able to all this time. I started feeling sick to my stomach.

“I said I hope you experience the real meaning of Christmas.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, thanks,” Mrs. Hanlan said.

I raced back down the driveway and told myself I’d have to be extra careful around her from now on.

Once I added up my tips, it was time to head to the mall to do my shopping. I had to buy presents for my parents, my sisters, and Uncle Ed. I figured seventy-six bucks would cover everything, plus maybe a little something special for myself.

“Are you sure you’re going to be all right?” my mom asked me when we pulled up in front of Woolco. “Why don’t I just come with you?”

“Because then you’ll see what I get for you.”

“I won’t look, I promise. Besides, I can help you pick out something for the girls and your dad. And how will you know what to get for Uncle Ed?”

I knew my mom didn’t really want to help me. She just gets all weird whenever I go anywhere by myself. She thinks something bad is going to happen to me, like a pervert is going to come up to me and ask if I want candy. I’ll be reluctant at first, but he’ll put the pressure on.

“C’mon,” he’ll say. “You know you want some.”

Then he’ll tell me to follow him out to his van.

“That’s where the candy is,” he’ll say.

I’ll be a bit nervous, but I’ll go along. “He looks harmless enough,” I’ll say to myself.

But when we get to the van, the handsome stranger will push me inside and say “Game’s over, kid.” He’ll tie me up and gag me and then take me back to his house and do perverted things to me. Things I can’t even bear to think about — that’s how perverted they are. After he’s had his way with me, he’ll drop me back off at the mall.

“If you tell anyone about this, kid, I’m gonna have to come back and do it to you again,” he’ll say.

“You can’t scare me with your threats,” I’ll say.

“Oh yeah?” the handsome pervert will laugh. “Well, just watch your every move, kid, because I’ll be back when you least suspect it.”

“I’ll be fine,” I said to my mom. “If I need anything, Christine’s at work. Just meet me back in front of Woolco at two o’clock.”

“Do you have your whistle?”

My mom makes me wear a whistle around my neck when I go out in public alone. I tuck it under my clothes so no one can see it. I’m supposed to blow it if anyone takes my wallet or starts to follow me.

“Just drop everything and blow this whistle,” my mom said when she first gave it to me. “For god’s sake, Peter, blow it for all you’re worth.”

“Yes, I have my whistle,” I said. “Meet me back here at two.” I jumped out just as she was asking me if I had dimes for the payphone.

Once I got inside the doors at Woolco, I dug in my pocket for the Christmas list I’d made out earlier that day. I had to get a tie for my dad (because that’s what I get him every year), a pair of silver clip-on earrings for my mom, a red and blue scarf for Nancy, a ten-dollar gift certificate for Uncle Ed from Sam The Record Man, and a pair of black leather gloves for Christine.

Woolco was pretty busy with holiday shoppers, but I managed to squeeze my way through the crowds. First off, I went to the jewellery department to find my mom’s earrings. They didn’t have much of a selection and none of the earrings were on sale, so I bought her a necklace that was 50% off. At regular price, it was more expensive than the earrings, so I was sure she’d like it.

Then I headed off to the ladies wear department to find Nancy’s scarf and Christine’s gloves. I couldn’t find any red and blue scarves, even though Nancy wanted something to match her new red jacket.

“I got this at Suzy Shier!” she screamed when she brought it home.

I picked out a purple scarf because it was on sale. Besides, red and purple go together, too. I’d have to remind Nancy of that when I gave her the gift.

As I passed through the bra section on my way to the glove section, I heard a woman and her daughter talking in front of one of the displays.

“If I don’t start now, they won’t grow properly,” the girl was saying. She looked my age, maybe a year younger.

“Well, I don’t think it’s a life-or-death thing,” her mom said. “But let’s get a training bra and you can try
that out and see how you like it.”

I just about died! A training bra? I glanced over at the girl’s chest. She was pretty flat — flatter than me, anyway. If she needed a bra, did I need one, too? And what did she mean when she said they wouldn’t “grow properly”? I saw my nipples pointing in different directions, like Mr. Bertoli and his glass eye. Then I’d really be in a pickle.

I was so worried about my nipples that I just grabbed the first pair of gloves I saw for Christine, put them in my basket, and headed for the men’s department on the other side of the store. I found a tie in a sale bin that I was sure my dad would like. Well, not that he’d really know the difference between a nice tie and an ugly one.

While I was in the men’s department, I looked around to see if I could find anything for myself. But most of the clothes at Woolco aren’t the same kind of quality that you get at Sears. Then I started wondering what I would buy for Mr. Hanlan for Christmas.

“What would Dan like from his favourite paperboy?” I asked myself. Before I knew it, I was standing right in the middle of the underwear section.

“I bet Dan would like these,” I thought as I picked up a pair of red bikini underwear. They were very sexy. I knew Dan would appreciate them.

“Thanks,” he’d say. “Maybe I should try them on to see if they fit. Can I count on you to tell me if they look okay?”

“I guess,” I’d say and shrug, “if you really need a second opinion.”

I started to feel pretty warm and dizzy so I put the red bikinis back down. Then I checked my watch and realized I’d better get to the cash register.

All in all, I spent $42.64, which I thought was pretty good. I still had to get Uncle Ed’s gift certificate so I headed into the mall.

As I passed Peoples, I glanced in to see if I could see Christine, but she wasn’t behind the counter. Maybe she was on her break. Or maybe she was in back of the store, polishing diamonds or whatever she does. Even if family members
were
allowed to say “hi,” I wouldn’t have gone in. I had too many important things to do.

After I picked up Uncle Ed’s gift certificate, I decided I was hungry. I checked my watch and saw that I still had a half hour left before I had to meet my mom. Even though I don’t usually eat in public, I figured I’d just have a small salad and be on my way before anyone noticed me. Besides, I deserved to treat myself, seeing as how I got everyone such great deals on their Christmas gifts.

When I got to the food court, my super-strong smelling powers went into overdrive. I could smell French fries and hamburgers and donuts and pizza. I changed my mind about getting a small salad and ended up ordering a cheeseburger, medium fries with gravy, and a medium Diet Coke from The Burger Depot. I found a table in the far corner of the food court and set my tray down. I was a bit uncomfortable about sitting by myself, but then I figured it made me seem mysterious. People started to notice me.

“Who’s that?” they whispered to each other. “I’ve never seen him before.”

I sighed and popped a French fry in my mouth.

“I can’t believe someone as good-looking as him would be eating alone. What’s he all about?”

I pretended to be too interested in reading The Burger Depot tray liner to hear.

“Hey look! It’s Peter Fattington.”

Someone else said that. That voice didn’t come from inside my head. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a pair of blue jeans standing beside me.

“Having the pig trough special?” the voice asked. It was Brian Cinder. I heard someone else laugh. I didn’t look up. I couldn’t. I was too scared. The table jiggled as he sat down across from me.

“I’m doing you a favour,” he said as he grabbed my fries. “The last thing you need is to gain more weight.”

He was with Paul Roxbury, another member of the Banger Group. Paul grabbed my pop out of my hand. “This better be diet,” he said.

My burger flip-flopped in my stomach and my heart was beating so fast I thought it was going to explode. And then I would die, right there in the Lambton Mall food court, just a few days before Christmas, all because of Brian Cinder.

They finished off all of my food. Then Brian said it was time to hit the arcade. “You got any money?” he asked. I looked up at him and shook my head.

“You sure about that? Because if you’re fuckin’ lying to me, fat boy, I’ll have to pound the shit out of you.”

I gulped. I had shopping money left over in my wallet, but there was no way I was going to let him know that.

“I don’t have any,” I said.

“What was that?” Brian leaned across the table.

“I said I don’t have any.”

“I don’t believe you. I’m gonna check your pockets, lardass. And if I find out you’re lying to me, you’re fuckin’ dead.”

I remembered the whistle around my neck. I felt it underneath my sweatshirt.

“C’mon,” Paul said to Brian. “We don’t have time. We were supposed to meet Michelle a half hour ago.”

Brian sat there looking at me for a couple of seconds. He was chewing on his bottom lip. “All right,” he said, getting up from the table. “Let’s go. This pig’s making me sick, anyway.”

I watched them walk away. Just when I thought I was safe, Brian turned around and came back. “My lace is undone,” he said.

There was no way I was going to bend down and tie his boot lace in the middle of the food court. There were too many people around. I didn’t move. Brian stood there, looking at me.

“I said my lace is undone.”

I kept my eyes on my tray. “Just blow the whistle,” I thought. “Someone will come to help.”