Payback (10 page)

I would never admit this to anyone, but sometimes I think girls are smarter than boys.

At dinner that night Da says, “Your aunt tells me that you and Annie are spending a lot of time over at the Mason place.”

I feel my face get red. “Aunt Maeve said it's okay for us to go after school.”

“But almost every day, Charley? What's going on?”

“Nothing's going on. Mrs. Mason could use some help, that's all.”

“And you and Annie are helping?”

“Yes. I work around her yard sometimes, run errands, and Annie plays with her little kid while Mrs. Mason catches up on her sewing, stuff like that. And Mrs. Mason is teaching her how to sew on her machine.”

“Maybe your Aunt Maeve could use a little help over at her place. Do you ever think of that? Your
uncle doesn't do much around the house except make a mess with his kites.”

“We do help Aunt Maeve. We have chores.”

“And you're still taking care of your sister? You pick her up after school every day and make sure she gets home okay? You're watching out for her?”

“Of course, Da.” I feel good about that. I've never missed picking her up, even on the days I skip out of school.

“You're the man of the family when I'm not here, Charley, you know that. Get home before dark. No later, okay? I rely on you.”

“Okay, Da.” I mean it. He can rely on me.

He's right about Crazy Uncle Rufus, though. Did I mention that Crazy Uncle Rufus builds kites? And flies them at Waterfront Park on windy days? Anyway, he does, and he makes a mess in the dining room with glue and paper and scraps of materials and hardly ever puts his tools away and poor old Aunt Maeve always has to clean up after him. The kites he makes are pretty good, though. He makes all shapes — deltas and boxes and diamonds and other kinds I don't remember the names of.

He took me kite flying with him one windy
Saturday afternoon — this was before Ma was sick in hospital — and I watched him running about the field like a maniac. The kite flew straight up into the sky, so high I could hardly see it.

“Look at her soar, Charley,” he yelled. “She flies straight to heaven.”

He passed the line over to me and let me hold it. It was like trying to control a runaway horse, the pull on my arms and wrists so fierce.

“Follow your bliss, Charley,” yelled Crazy Uncle Rufus, his face red with excitement.

I was afraid the line would be torn from my hands, and Crazy Uncle Rufus's kite would be lost. Then the line suddenly slackened and the kite began losing height.

“Keep her aloft, Charley!” yelled Crazy Uncle Rufus.

But I couldn't. I didn't know how.

Crazy Uncle Rufus grabbed the line from my hands and began a wild dance, whooping and laughing and waving his arms about and soon the kite was soaring again.

“Kites rise highest
against
the wind, Charley, not
with
it,” he yelled.

“Ah, ye did well for a beginner, Charley,” Crazy Uncle Rufus said afterwards, when we were driving home. “But kite-flying is an ancient Irish art, and it helps a lot if ye have the blessing of the Little People.”

I think what Crazy Uncle Rufus really meant was if I want to be a good kite flyer like him, then I need to be crazy like him.

••••

I decide we'll stay no longer than an hour if we go to Joanna's on weekdays. I think of Blackbeard. It's not as safe on the streets after the sun sets, and you hear so much about creeps who go after little kids, especially girls. I didn't like the look he gave Annie the other day. I get the heebies just thinking about it.

The next morning I take a long carving knife from the drawer and slip it into my school bag.

“What's with the knife in the school bag, Charley?”

“It's to protect Annie, Ma.”

“Taking a knife to school isn't such a good idea, Charley. You know that.”

Ma looks like she's just come out of the shower — flushed face, hair in a towel, white terrycloth bathrobe, slippers.

I drop the knife back into the drawer. Then I see the potato peeler with its sharp end.

“What about this, Ma?” I say, turning from the drawer, but she's gone.

I feel the end of the peeler with the edge of my thumb. Useful for sharpening pencils, if anyone asks.

But could I really use it? Could I strike out with it, like a sword or dagger, and draw somebody's blood?

I toss it into my school bag. If Blackbeard tries anything, sure as Helsinki he's going to get it right in the place where he keeps his valuables, if you know what I mean.

I'll show him I'm no coward.

Annie can't wait to get over to Joanna's after school every day for Joanna to teach her how to make napkins and place mats on the sewing machine.

I watch them with their heads together, bent over the kitchen table or sitting side by side at the sewing machine, Annie happy and worry free, almost the way she used to be before Ma died, when she had lots of energy and way too much to say. Anyone with a pair of eyes can see that coming to the Mason place is good for her.

Did I mention about all the rain we've been getting? We had a long dry summer, but Vancouver's a wet place in the winter, Aunt Maeve says, and over here on the north shore at the foot of the mountains, it's even wetter.

You'd think it being December there'd be snow,
but no way, just rain. There's tons of snow on the mountains for the skiers and snowboarders, but down here closer to sea level we're socked in by a dark belly of wet cloud, and it gets dark real early.

Every morning, before setting out for school, I get in the habit of taking my sword — the spud peeler — from my school bag and slipping it down the sock of my right leg.

I know I can get to it fast if I need to. I've been practicing. I'm quick on the draw.

On Friday, Rico is stretched out on the living-room floor flipping through the pages of a picture book.

“What you got there, Rico?” Annie sits beside him. “A new book?”

“It's called
Big Bill
,” says Rico. “Will you read it to me?”

Annie hunkers down beside him and reads the book to him.

I leave her to it and take care of the garbage while Joanna stands guard at the door as usual. Then I jog over to the corner grocery and pick up a carton of milk.

When I get back, Annie is sitting at the sewing machine with Joanna, and Rico is still on the floor looking through the pictures of his new book.

I put the milk in the fridge and then sit at the kitchen table. Joanna has left orange juice and granola bars out for a snack.

Rico comes and sits down beside me.

“Will you read
Big Bill
to me, Charley?”

“Sure, Rico.”

Annie says, “Joanna, do you think you could teach me how to make those gnomes with big hands and feet? I love them.”

Joanna says, “Me, too. But I don't know how to make them, Annie.”

“You didn't make the trolls and gnomes?” says Annie.

“Me? No. Benny made them.”

“You're not reading.” Rico is becoming impatient with me. I'm not paying enough attention to his book.

Annie says, “Benny made everything?”

“That's right, Annie.”

My head jerks up from Rico's book, and I stare at Joanna.

Benny made everything.
I had no idea.

The gnome on Joanna's windowsill is looking at me, its face sad with disappointment and reproach.

••••

“Aunt Maeve, what's it called when someone is too scared to leave their house?”

“Claustrophobia? No, agoraphobia, I think. Look it up. Do you know someone like that, Charley?”

“Maybe. I'm not sure.”

Benny's death is always on my mind. It doesn't get smaller, it gets bigger and bigger. It's like a house filling up with furniture. My mind is crammed with Benny's furniture and it's getting harder and harder to move around. I keep barking my shins and bruising my elbows on the tables and chairs, keep knocking into the sneering gargoyles and disappointed gnomes.

I still can't tell Joanna, and the longer I leave it the harder it gets. But I can't keep the black secret all to myself, it's too big.

The whole thing is like a bomb inside me, ticking away, waiting to explode.

••••

“Hi.”

It's Danny Whelan from my English class. He's wearing earphones around his neck.

“Hi.” I nod back at him.

“Okay to sit here?”

“You bet.” Another North American phrase I picked up. You bet.

He sits opposite me at the cafeteria table and opens his lunch bag.

“Whelan's an Irish name,” I say.

He nods. “Ancestor came to Montreal way back during the Great Irish Famine of 1848.”

“What place in Ireland?”

He shrugs. “No idea. Place with a bunch of lakes, I think.”

“Killarney, maybe.”

“Maybe.”

He asks me a few questions about what music I like. We talk.

When lunch is over he says, “Catch you later.”

“You bet.”

Catch you later. I like that. I add it to my growing list of Canadian.

Catch you later. You bet.

••••

“Look! It's that man again,” says Annie.

We've just arrived at Joanna's after school.

Annie's right. Blackbeard is standing in a neigh-bor's unfenced front yard across the street, a few lots away from Joanna's house.

“Pretend you haven't seen him, Annie.”

I know it's himself even in the gloom of the mountain shadows. He is big and dark, and almost blends in with the purple light in the neighbor's yard.

It's obvious he's trying to hide because he ducks behind a bush when he sees us.

It's the first time I've seen him in daytime. In the gloom he looks even scarier than at night. It isn't just the beard. It's also his huge size and the hungry glare in his dark eyes.

He seems to be staring straight at Annie.

I knock on Joanna's door and she lets us in. Before
the door closes I look back over at the neighbor's yard, but Blackbeard has disappeared.

••••

A few days later we see Blackbeard again after school. He's passing the corner grocery a couple of blocks from Joanna's.

My heart pounds with fear as I bend over and feel the shape of the spud peeler in my sock. I like the feel of it next to my leg.

I pretend to tie my shoelace while Annie waits.

When I stand up and look around, Blackbeard has gone.

If Blackbeard is the kind who kidnaps kids, shouldn't he have a car, luring his victims inside with candy or asking for help to find a lost puppy? Even Annie might go with him if he did that. Seeing him so often can't be coincidence.

Is Blackbeard planning to kidnap Annie?

A chill strikes through to my belly.

Suddenly my spud peeler seems like no weapon at all.

It comes without warning. Even Mango is caught napping.

Joanna and Annie are at the sewing machine and me and Rico are working on a puzzle at the kitchen table when he comes crashing through the back door into the kitchen like a bomb. The locks shatter and the door splinters into pieces.

Blackbeard!

Mango rushes in, snarling and growling like a lion.

“Arrgrrrgh!”

It seems like everyone's screaming. Annie falls to the floor, her hands clasped to her ears in fright.

“Charley!” she shrieks. I rush over to her.

Joanna leaps to her feet, screaming.

Blackbeard roars at her and plunges toward Rico.

Mango launches himself at Blackbeard's leg, snarling and growling.

Joanna is like a madwoman. She screams and grabs Blackbeard, trying to pull him back out the shattered door.

“Yaaa!” yells Blackbeard, shaking her off.

Joanna launches herself at the kitchen counter, reaching for a long knife. She doesn't make it. Blackbeard throws her away roughly. The knife clatters to the floor and she collides with the stacked dishes on the drainboard. The dishes are swept to the floor in an almighty crash and Joanna goes down with them, striking her head on the edge of counter and lying still.

Rico screams and runs to his ma's side. Joanna doesn't move when he pulls at her, trying to wake her.

Blackbeard swings his leg quickly, kicking high to shake off the dog. Mango flies off the leg, taking a scrap of Blackbeard's trousers with him. He hits the wall with a thud and falls to the floor.

I'm in a state of shock. I can't move, watching helplessly as Blackbeard lunges at Rico.

Annie screams, “Charley!”

Blackbeard trips over Pineapple, who is streaking
across the floor to protect her kittens. He yells something foreign and falls to the floor with a crash.

Mango rushes in again, snarling and growling as he fights to tear the ear from Blackbeard's head. The man bellows with pain and anger, beats Mango off and staggers to his feet, clutching the side of his head. Blood pours down the side of his face and neck.

I stare at the blood, and then I come to life. I throw myself at Blackbeard and kick his shins as fast and hard as I can — twice, once with each foot. But I'm like a fly attacking a gorilla. I try to get in close so I can deliver a Dublin kiss but it's impossible because he's way too big and is moving too fast for me, and besides, I've never done one before. He reaches for Rico who is clinging to his ma's limp arm. He tears Rico away from his ma, but Rico, wriggling and screaming, slips from his grasp and falls to the floor.

“Momma! Momma!” he screams.

As Blackbeard reaches again for Rico, Mango launches himself at Blackbeard and sinks his teeth into his leg. Blackbeard yells and falls backwards, and something rattles and falls to the floor.

Car keys. Blackbeard's car.

I bend quickly and grab them and hurl them as hard as I can out the broken door into the back yard, yelling to Annie and Rico at the same time, “Lock yourselves in the bathroom!”