Shadow Girl (7 page)

When the hot chocolate was ready, Mrs. Adamson handed a mug to Jules. “Here. You’ll like this.”

I don’t like anything
.

Jules couldn’t look at Mrs. Adamson, but she took the mug and held it in her lap. Its warmth felt good.

“Why weren’t you at school today?”

None of your business
.

Jules kept her mouth shut, her head bowed.

How can I ever tell?

Mrs. Adamson brought a chair close to Jules and sat down. “I know something’s wrong, Jules. I … just want to help. I …” She paused. “Life can be so hard, and if you’re young and if you’re alone, things seem harder. I sure know all about that.”

How can you possibly? Nobody can
.

Mrs. Adamson sat quietly beside her for a long time. Jules was glad she didn’t try filling up time with empty words.

“Jules, something’s not right. It might help to talk about it.”

Alone, alone, alone
.

“Jules?” Mrs. Adamson asked softly.

If I say nothing, you’ll give up
.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

Won’t you ever stop asking?

“Nothing!” Jules said too loudly. “Nothing,” she repeated, strangling a sob.

“I’ve never seen you so sad.”

Jules was shocked.

It’s a secret, my sadness
.

It was frightening, terrifying, to think Mrs. Adamson could see it. Nobody ever noticed anything, except maybe Patsy. No grown-up ever talked to Jules like they wanted to find out what was on her mind or what was bothering her. Most people thought she was a moody kid. She’d heard her father say that enough times to his friend Hank, and Hank sure seemed to agree.

She looked into Mrs. Adamson’s face.

Adults only see what they want to see in a kid. Why should I be honest? I know how to fool people. Why let a stranger into the rotten part of my life? Besides, if I say anything, if my words go out into the air, it’ll make everything real
.

Mrs. Adamson put an arm around her.

How can a stranger be like this to me? To Jules, the stinking weirdo?

If Mrs. Adamson had been mean, Jules could have kept silent, but kindness made Jules’s feelings crash together and burst out.

“My dad. He’s left me. Doesn’t want me.”

“What do you mean, ‘doesn’t want you’?”

“He got mad at me last Friday night and called his friend. They went out, and he hasn’t come back.”

“Friday night?” Mrs. Adamson looked away, and
Jules knew she was thinking about all the days that had passed since then. “That’s a long time, Jules.”

As if I don’t know
.

“Do you know where your dad’s friend lives?”

“No … yes. But I don’t really know how to get there.”

“How about where your dad works? Do you know the telephone number?”

“Yes. Dad’s got it written down somewhere for me. But …”

“You didn’t call?”

“No.”

“Well, maybe I could.”

“No!” Jules shouted, pulling away from her.

“It’s okay, hon. I won’t, I won’t.” Mrs. Adamson looked up at the ceiling and took a breath. “All right,” she finally said. She held Jules as she stared at the wall in front of them. It was decorated with Christmas cards. “Has your dad ever stayed away so long?”

“Weeknights, sometimes, and weekends, too, when he’s dri –” Jules caught herself. “When he’s with his friends. But not longer than two nights in a row. This time, I think he doesn’t want to come back. He’s fed up with me.”

Anyone else would say, “No, no, Jules, that can’t be true,” when they didn’t know anything about her life.

“Okay, hon. Okay.” Mrs. Adamson was silent again. She looked like she was having trouble knowing what words to use. “I’m sure you can manage on
your own. In fact, I suspect you’re pretty amazing.” She looked at Jules with a half-smile. “But you shouldn’t be on your own every day.”

She says I’m amazing. It feels good to hear someone say that
.

But a heavy, dark feeling was taking hold of her.

Silence is bad, speaking up is bad
.

“Nobody should tell my dad and me what to do,” Jules said in a mean voice.

“Of course not. But … sometimes people, families, need extra help just to stay together, to keep going. I know that myself. And … I know you’re strong, stronger than almost any young girl I’ve ever met. But even strong kids shouldn’t be alone for so long. Don’t you think?”

Jules didn’t know what to say. As young as she was, she knew that – unlike most kids – she was beyond needing to be looked after by anybody. Not because she wanted it that way, but because that’s how her life had been for the past few years. Nothing could change her back into a kid who needed to be told when to eat dinner or what clothes to wear.

But she was tired.

“Could you sit here for a few minutes? By yourself? Will you promise to stay here? I’ll be back in a sec. No one will bother you.”

I don’t want to promise anything
.

Jules’s first impulse was to run away the minute Mrs. Adamson left the room. She started to plan how she could get out of the store quickly, without being
seen, but she didn’t move her body to make it happen.

While Mrs. Adamson was out of the staff room, every so often another employee would pop their head in, say hi, and ask Jules if she wanted anything. Was she hungry? Did she want any more hot chocolate?

“No” was all she could manage to say.

This isn’t right. I don’t like strangers being kind to me for no reason
.

Mrs. Adamson finally came back. She talked about Christmas, and Jules kept her mouth shut.

This is a huge mistake. I’m in for it now. From strangers. From my dad
.

After twenty minutes or so, there was a knock on the door.

Mrs. Adamson got up and opened it. “Hi. I’m Sophie Adamson,” she said. “C’mon in.”

Jules looked at the woman who entered the room.

“Hi, Jules,” she said gently. “My name’s Eileen, Eileen Ward. And I’m a social worker.”

J
ules left the store with Eileen, walking through it feeling ashamed, like a criminal.

Eileen told Jules she was going to take her to a safe place, where she’d be looked after, and took Jules home to get some clothes. In the car, she explained more about Catholic Children’s Aid.

Jules found it impossible to say more than yes or no to Eileen. Her mouth was dry, and her tongue felt swollen.

It was terrible having a stranger, a social worker, come into their house.

I feel like I’m under arrest
.

“I don’t need you,” Jules cried out suddenly, in a panic, her voice breaking. “Get out! I’m not going anywhere. I have to be here for when my dad comes back! He’s coming back. You can’t take me anywhere. You can’t!”

“It’s all right, Jules. It’s okay. I’m only here to help you and your dad. And part of my job right now is helping you find him. I’m going to leave my contact information for him, both here and at his work, so he can get in touch with me when he comes back. I know you’re very worried about him. But you can’t be on your own.” Eileen kept looking around the shabby kitchen as she spoke.

I’m always on my own, you idiot. I don’t need anybody to look after me – except my dad. Get the hell out of here!

Jules sat down in a kitchen chair and wouldn’t move. “No, I’m not going,” she said. She held on to the seat of the chair with an iron grip.

Eileen found a beat-up suitcase in her father’s closet, but Jules refused to pack any of her clothes. Eileen had to do it.

No. No. No
.

Eventually, Eileen got Jules – somehow – to move, to walk out of that house. She used words that were meant to be kind, about finding her dad and helping them both, but mixed in were words about the law and Catholic Children’s Aid. The outside world was grabbing her, reaching in and pulling Jules away from her dad, her life. And there was nothing she could do about it.

Eileen drove Jules to downtown Toronto. She explained that they were going to an emergency home, where children like Jules stayed after they were taken by Catholic Children’s Aid. Jules had thought
she was going to be put in some kind of orphanage, but it turned out to be just an old house on Roncesvalles. Mrs. Currie was the owner. As they walked through the front door, children seemed to be screaming and running everywhere. Jules barely noticed anything else.

Help me, somebody. Help me. I have to get out of here!

Mrs. Currie gave Jules something to eat, but Jules pushed the food away. Eileen sat down with Jules and began asking a lot of questions about Jules’s dad and their life together. She even asked about her mom. Jules just shook her head
yes
or
no
.

I’m not going to say anything. Not going to betray my dad more than I’ve already done
.

Jules wasn’t going to talk about his angry moods or the endless drinking. And yet these were the things Eileen wanted to hear about – like she was a detective for the bad in people. Eileen also asked Jules about the bruise on her cheek, about whether her dad or anyone else hurt her.

Dad spanks me sometimes. So what? Lots of parents spank their kids. You’re turning him into a bad man
.

Eileen left around seven-thirty. Mrs. Currie was watching TV in the living room with the other kids. Jules told Mrs. Currie she was tired, and Mrs. Currie took her up the narrow, creaky stairs to the second floor, showed Jules where the bathroom was and where she was supposed to sleep.

Jules stood in the middle of the bedroom, hearing nothing as Mrs. Currie spoke to her. The room was
hot, stuffy. The smell of bleach was strong, and when she breathed in, Jules could almost taste it on her tongue. Toys were scattered across the wooden floor. Two blue dressers flanked the large window, which looked out onto the street, and crayon scribbles covered every inch of the gray-white walls. Jules’s small suitcase rested on the bottom bunk of the bunk bed against one wall.

As soon as Mrs. Currie left her, Jules changed into her pajamas and opened the bedroom door before lying down on the bunk bed. She listened to the sounds of TV and people moving around downstairs. An hour later, two boys and a young girl came up. The boys went into one room, and the young girl came into Jules’s room with Mrs. Currie. Mrs. Currie turned on the light. The little girl, Trudy, who looked to be around seven, fought with Mrs. Currie about having to go to bed, making enough noise to wake the dead. Jules pretended to be asleep.

Morning was chaotic. The boys were arguing at the breakfast table as Mrs. Currie shouted at one of them – Jimmy – to get ready for school. The noise woke Trudy up, and she went downstairs. A few seconds later, she was back in the room with Mrs. Currie, who pulled Trudy’s wet sheets off the bed. When Mrs. Currie tried to get Trudy to change out of her wet pajamas, Trudy began to scream.

Jules curled up on the bunk and stared at the wall. She refused to get up.

At ten o’clock, a babysitter came to the house to watch the other kids. Mrs. Currie announced to Jules that – like it or not – she had to get out of bed and go with her to a doctor’s office. “They just need to look you over, Jules. The doctor will check your weight and height, that kind of thing.”

I’ve never been to a doctor in my whole life, and I don’t need one now!

Mrs. Currie told Jules that she’d be in and out of the office in two minutes. But she lied.

Jules frantically pushed the nurse’s and doctor’s hands away from her whenever they tried to touch her, grabbing hard, shoving them away with all her might. She almost knocked the nurse to the floor.

“Relax, Jules. We’re not going to hurt you,” the doctor kept saying. “We just want to make sure that you’re okay, head to toe.”

No. Don’t. You can’t. Don’t touch me!

“Now calm down, Jules,” the doctor said, sounding frustrated. He turned to the nurse. “Just keep her still, would you? C’mon, kiddo. Don’t be afraid.”

Jules would’ve made herself disappear off the face of the earth if she’d had the power.

When they got back to Mrs. Currie’s house, Jules walked up to the bedroom and slept on and off for most of the day. At dinner with the other kids, she pretended she couldn’t hear or speak, so that nobody would talk to her. Afterwards, she quickly retreated to her room.

On Saturday morning, the other kids helped Mrs. Currie wrap presents in the kitchen, on the huge wooden table. When Mrs. Currie told Jules she couldn’t stay in the bedroom all day, Jules parked herself on the chesterfield in the living room and watched TV without taking anything in.

Eileen telephoned at noon to tell Jules she’d found a foster home for her. “It’s a miracle I found a place so fast, especially one that’s near Our Lady of Peace. You won’t have to go to a new school.”

Jules felt as if her stomach were grinding glass. She’d completely forgotten about school or anything else – except her dad. She wasn’t herself anymore. She was just a stupid kid whose life got turned upside down by complete strangers in ways she couldn’t have imagined.

I don’t need to worry about having nightmares at night. I’ve got wide-awake ones now
.

“Why do I have to go to a foster home?”

“Let’s talk about it when we meet up, Jules.”

“But my dad –”

“I still don’t know where he is, Jules. I haven’t heard from him.”

December 23. Monday.

“I’m sorry we haven’t had another chance to talk,” Eileen said when she came to pick Jules up. “It’s a crazy time of year.”

I don’t want to talk
.

“Your dad phoned my office this morning.”

My dad! He’s back! He’s back! I can go home!

“Apparently he’s been at a friend’s – Hank’s. He stayed there the night he left. Then he stayed with another friend, someone he met at a party. He hasn’t been to work, which is why we couldn’t reach him there.”

He didn’t phone or try to see me. Maybe he doesn’t want to be with me – whether he’s back at home or not
.