Playing With Matches (24 page)

“Actually, your driving is kind of making me sick,” Deb said in a quiet voice.

And then I smelled it. I looked out the window at the bungalows that lined the neat street but there were no signs of farms anywhere close by. I opened my window.

“Do you smell that?” I asked. I jammed the radio button off. The car seemed suddenly bigger, emptied of all that dance music.

“Um, Rain? I’m … really sorry.”

“Oh. Is that you?”

“Um, no,” Deb said in a tiny voice. “It’s kind of … dog vomit.”

“Dog vomit?! Dog vomit?!” I yelled at Deb.

“I think your driving made Bronx carsick.”

I twisted around and glanced behind me. A sticky patch of dog vomit flecked with chunks of Choco-chickies lay under his matted head and dripped off the seat, forming a sickening puddle in the foot well. I could feel my eyes filling up. Deb rested her hand lightly on my shoulder. “Maybe the vomit is good because the chocolate is coming out.”

That vomit might have been good for Bronx. And it might have been good for Deb. But it was very, very bad for my sister’s car, which meant that it was very, very bad for me. I glanced in the rear-view mirror. Bronx was trying to rise on his forelegs. He looked around him and then sank back into his seat, his eyes closed again.

I thought of the Post-it notes in my desk. This is the list I would have made.

People Who Have Totally Legitimate Reasons to Hate Me:

#1. Daniel: Because I killed his dog.

#2. Leah: Because I killed her car.

#3. Bronx: Because I killed him.

And as a freebie I’d throw in Mrs. Levine just because she hated me already.

“I’ll figure out a way to clean out the car,” Deb said.

“My sister … ,” I stuttered. “I have to pick her up —”

“We’ll get rid of this stuff and the smell,” she said.

“— in the morning.”

“Yeah, that might be a problem,” she said. “It’s here!” She pointed to the small bungalow with a large sandblasted sign that said Emergency Animal Clinic. I lurched into the driveway. Deb threw open her door and sprinted toward the house. I peered back at Bronx who was trying to rise to his feet again. That was definitely an improvement. Deb emerged from the animal clinic with a burly man pulling a gurney. He removed a wooden board with black straps dangling from the sides from the stretcher.

“OdoBan,” the man said while he manoeuvred the board under Bronx. “You can get it at any Home Store — it gets out bad dog smells.”

The man buckled Bronx down on both sides of the wooden board. He and Deb eased the board from the car onto the gurney then pulled it toward the clinic.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to help?” Deb called behind her.

“Your place is with Bronx now,” I said. “Go to him now. He needs you.” It was like a scene from a cheesy movie where you’d expect to hear the swelling of violins in the background as the heroine ran in slow motion to her beloved. Except we were dealing with a barfing dog, a putrid car, and a whole lot of people who were going to be pretty ticked off by the time this incident was over.

Deb nodded tearfully at me and mouthed thank-you-I’m-so-sorry as I backed the Saturn out of the driveway.

I drove to the twenty-four-hour Home Store where I purchased the animal cleaner, then rushed home. I found a plastic bucket but no rags anywhere in the laundry room so I ran upstairs to my bedroom, grabbed the only thing I could find — my favourite night T-shirt — and ripped it into large pieces. I filled the bucket with warm water and spent the next couple of hours in the frozen night, scrubbing vomit, scouring the upholstery, and wiping all the plastic parts in Leah’s car.

At 3:30 a.m. I opened the windows to air out, prayed it wouldn’t rain or snow any more that night, and dragged myself up to my bedroom and crashed fully clothed into my bed.

chapter 26

Disaster DNA

At 6 a.m. I was awoken by my cell phone shrieking in my ear.

“Rain, it’s me,” Leah said.

“You okay?” I said.

“My shift is over and I’m at Finch Station and I’m really, really tired,” she said. “Can you pick me up?”

I bolted upright. “I’d be happy to, but the only car here is yours.”

“I’m not doing well and I’m desperate. Can you just drive really, really carefully? The keys are in a ceramic bowl on my desk.”

“I’ll be right there.”

I threw on a stretchy skirt and a sweatshirt, grabbed her keys, and slid into the driver’s seat of Leah’s car. I glanced behind me. There was no sign of dog sickness and there was a pleasant scent in the air. It still made sense to drive with the windows down to be on the safe side though.

I pulled into the station where Leah waited. Her eyes were blotchy and her face was puffy from crying. The Zara bag carried the remains of her last night’s disastrous date. She walked over to the driver’s seat and threw in her purse. I climbed over the console and settled into the passenger seat while she threw the Zara bag in the trunk.

She lowered herself into the driver seat and let out a yelp. “Why does my car smell like … like … What
is
this?”

What was with the x-ray smelling abilities? I shrunk back in my seat and answered in a quivering voice. “Vomit.”

“Vomit?!”
she yelled. “Did you use my car?”

I shrunk back toward the passenger window. How could I possibly explain this? “It’s a long story —”

She whipped up her hand to stop me.

“Please don’t say anything. I can’t handle your excuses now.”

She keyed the ignition and pulled a sharp left onto Yonge Street. Forget gas, the car was running on anger now. A horrible, terrible, frightening silence filled the car like a balloon about to explode. I gripped the armrest, terrified to look at her now.

Yonge Street was like an empty runway and the car was about to fly off the ground.

She didn’t say a word until we pulled into the Bernsteins’ house where for some reason Uncle Eli’s car was parked on the driveway. Leah sprung from the seat, unlatched the trunk, grabbed the Zara bag and slammed down the hatch, the car rocking back and forth from the force.

When we got into the house, Mira was carting her suitcase up the stairs.

“Girls!” she said. “We decided to come home early and beat the traffic back from Stratford. How are you?”

Leah threw her bag on the floor and took a deep breath. “Do you want to know what happened? Rain took my car
without permission
and threw up in it.”

Aunt Mira slowly descended the stairs. “Rain? Are you alright?”

“It’s a long story,” I said.

“You had no permission,”
Leah said. She exhaled through clenched teeth then turned to Aunt Mira. “I can’t take it anymore, Aunt Mira.”

“It,” meaning me.

This was clearly part of a larger conversation that she and Mira were carrying on about me. My shoulders crumpled.

“I don’t know
what’s
going on with her,” Leah said.

“What
is
going on, Rain?” Mira said. “Now.”

Leah glared at me with narrowed eyes. You could practically see the gears turning in her head and when she spoke it was barely a whisper. “You were there.”

I shook my head. This couldn’t be happening.

“You
stalked me on my date
last night.”

I gasped.

She turned to Aunt Mira. “The jerk I was dating —” Leah stopped and shuddered. She squeezed her eyes shut and wiped them with her fingers. “He dumped me last night, but he came back to check on me, and told me that my sister was lurking at the Sheraton, but I didn’t believe him.”

My mouth dropped.

“I thought I saw my car pull into the parking lot,” Leah said to me. Her face looked like it had been punched with betrayal. “So you
followed
me? I thought you were starting to grow up.”

“There’s a reason,” I sobbed. “I can explain.”

“She’s probably reading my emails,” Leah said to Mira. “She’s sneaking around at night. She looked like she might have been drinking at Jeremy’s engagement party. Who knows what she’s up to?”

Her eyes squeezed shut as a fresh batch of tears formed. “Aunt Mira, I’m so tired. I need to sleep now. I’ll talk to you later,” she said as she climbed the stairs.

“Rain,” Mira said in a quiet voice. “I’ve already spoken to your parents. We’ll have to reassess whether this year’s plan is working.”

I shuddered and wiped my eye with the back of my hand.

“Go get your lunch. I’ll take you to the bus stop in ten minutes,” she said.

Who cared about food? I gathered my knapsack and stumbled to the foyer where I slumped on the deacon’s bench. The last twelve hours had been a complete nightmare. I had a car disaster, a sister disaster, a dog disaster, and possibly a Bernstein disaster. I had disaster DNA imprinted on every cell in my body.

Exhaustion overcame me. If only I could just drift into a dreamy sleep, then wake to find that all my problems had been fixed. I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes, but the disturbing picture of Bronx jabbed my head. I possibly poisoned him and then made him carsick. With growing dread I pulled my cell phone from my purse.

There were no messages or texts from Deb.

I signed into Matchmaven.

There were two emails in the inbox. The first was a letter from Daniel. I bit my lip and slowly clicked on his message.

Dear Matchmaven,

Thank you so much for all your help last night. I’ve been in touch with Deb for the last few hours and Bronx is fine! Deb was beside herself with concern but she actually saved him! I’m so impressed with her efforts and her dedication. I think this is the sign I was looking for. She’s our hero. Don’t say anything, but she’s definitely The One!

Best,

Daniel

Thank. You. God.

Bronx was okay. And Deb and Daniel too. I felt a drop of relief, which was not quite as much fun as happiness, but I took it anyway.

And then a seed of hope began to blossom. If Bronx could rise from the dead, then anything could happen. That dog was a beacon of hope: a shining light in the abyss of my life. Bronx was the 2004 Red Sox coming back from a three-game deficit to triumph over the Yankees. Bronx was the brave men who swept the Cardinals and won the World Series, finally ending the Curse of the Bambino once and for all.

Maybe it was exhaustion or possibly desperation, or maybe it was even insanity, but my mind brimmed with Bronx. For me he was optimism, promise, and redemption, all wrapped in one massive beast.

I was high on a shot of Bronx.

“We’ll leave in five minutes,” Mira yelled down from upstairs.

“Okay, I’m ready whenever you are,” I shouted back.

The second email was from Tamara.

Hi Rain,

I miss you! I’m so sorry that I’ve disappeared into my wedding. Please can we get together next week? You name the night and I’ll be available. Maybe we’ll meet after school and I’ll take you out to dinner.

I still feel bad about Matchmaven, but it sounds like you’re doing an amazing job.

Hugs,

Tamara

A smile lit up my face. I hadn’t realized how much I missed Tamara while she was gone.

It was the postscript that made me freeze.

P.S. Remember I told you about my friend Aviva? She was temporarily working as a secretary at your old high school and the position of chemistry teacher just opened up so she got the job! Isn’t that great? Apparently the previous teacher, (Mr. Sacks — did you know him?) had a heart attack and is in a Manhattan ICU now.

chapter 27

Unwelcome Images