The Second Trial (16 page)

Danny rarely went for groceries. Mom and Jennifer shopped. He spent time with Dad.

Dad. He swallowed and then focused on his mom's request. But – no car. They'd left it at Grandma and Grandpa's. They'd have to walk and carry back their groceries.

“I have some money from Grandma and Grandpa, and Sgt. Sandhu gave us some too. You can pick out some things you like,” she said lightly.

Danny squinted. “When're we gonna get a car?”

“It'll have to wait until we get the money from the house sale.”

He didn't
want
the house sold. But they needed the money, and after all, he didn't want to live this way, not all the way 'till Christmas.

“I'm sorry, I know this isn't what you want, but I need your help. And we need to work together.” They locked eyes. Her lined face looked tired but her gaze was strong, and her eyes tugged him into today's reality. Monday, August 12th: the day of his father's release.

Mom and Jennifer held hands while Danny dragged behind. Someone had set a grass fire on the field behind the mall. The ground was scorched as black as asphalt. An old school was perched on the field's far edge. It was in even worse shape than the one Sgt. Sandhu had shown them – Greenview Elementary – the one he was supposed to have ‘attended' in Saskatoon.

They filled six grocery bags in short order. Mom scooped up their favorite treats: microwave popcorn for Jennifer and ketchup potato chips for him. As they trudged back she said, “Since we can't carry too much at a time, we'll have to shop again tomorrow. But this way we won't buy too much, seeing as we're moving soon anyway.”

They loaded the groceries into the empty cupboards. The few bags of food left them looking bare.

“Let's have lunch,” Mom said.

Danny got out the dishes. There were exactly four of everything: bowls, plates, mugs, knives, forks, and spoons. They'd have to do dishes by hand three times a day. No stacking them into the dishwasher to run once a day.

“After lunch,” Mom said, “we'll take the bus and get you registered in your new schools.”

“Why can't we take a taxi?” Danny whined.

Catherine took a breath before answering. “Well, two reasons. First, even though Grandma and Grandpa gave us some money, I need to be careful with it, because it's going to be a while before our first payment comes from the government. Second, you'll know which bus to take when you go to school.”

“Why do we have to take a bus at all?” challenged Danny. “I saw a school across from the mall.”

“Well, the schools you're registering in are in the district we'll be moving to when we buy our house. That way you won't have to change schools after just a month. And they're better schools than the ones here.” She paused. “You must believe we've thought this through and have a plan to make this as painless as possible. I'm taking charge now, and I'm going to take care of you. Things will all work out, you'll see.”

Danny got up to leave.

“I'll do the dishes,” she said. “Why don't you two go outside for a bit, and maybe meet some of the neighbors?”

“What's the point?” Danny retorted. “You just said we're moving soon anyway.”

Chapter 3

Catherine unfolded bus schedules and a city map. “The bus goes from here at 1:10 p.m. Today we have to make a transfer, but don't worry. On school days, the bus is direct. Okay?” She tucked the family history into her purse.

The bus came late, which meant the connecting bus had left the transit station before they arrived. There wouldn't be another for twenty minutes. Catherine gave them coins for the vending machine. Danny idly kicked a stone around the pavement. Not many people waited at the station, mainly elderly ladies and young-looking mothers pushing baby strollers with wheels as big as Danny's bike's. He leaned against the bus shelter's outside wall, even though the wind had picked up and it was cool for a mid-August day.

On the bus, he sat alone at the back. Mom guided Jennifer onto a seat nearby. Fifteen minutes later they turned into a residential district. Well-tended lawns surrounded trim houses in orderly rows. Mature maple trees alternated with hedges. Generous green fields opened on each side of the road. He could see a school – no, two schools – ahead. Jennifer pulled the cord to ring the bell. “Later, the whole ride will take you twenty minutes at most,” Mom reassured them as they waited for the back doors to open. “Don't worry.”

The schools faced each other – École Westlawn Elementary School, and Queen Elizabeth Junior High.

“Let's register you first…David,” Mom said. “We'll do Julia after that.”

He dragged behind her.

A woman about Mom's age gazed at a computer. “I'll be with you in a sec,” she said from her desk.

“Jewel, do you want to go outside and look around while we register?” Mom asked.

“No,” the girl replied, slipping her hand into her mother's.

Danny sat in one of the chairs along the opposite wall. Sunlight spread through a large window.

“I'm Theresa Helpan. How can I help you?”

“I'd like to register my son for school.”

“Are you new to the neighborhood?”

“Yes, we've just moved here from…Saskatoon.”

“Okay,” she said, reaching into a filing cabinet for some papers. “Since you're new, you'll have to fill out this form.” She handed Catherine a pen and a sheaf of papers. “Did you bring his school records from Saskatoon?”

“Nooo,” Mom hesitated. “We…couldn't get them in time.”

“All right,” Ms. Helpan smiled. “But we'll need them as soon as possible.”

“No problem,” Catherine replied. She moved toward one of the chairs.

“You can fill them out here at the counter,” the secretary volunteered. “It's easier to write.”

“That's okay,” Catherine mumbled as she took a seat. Once the secretary was back at her desk, she pulled the family's new history from her purse. She pretended to use it as a writing surface while furtively checking the information. When she finished, she placed the form on the counter.

The secretary frowned at the form. “This is a closed boundary school. You live outside our boundaries. I'm afraid you can't register here.”

“But the place we're at is just…temporary. We're buying a house in this neighborhood. We plan to move on the first of October – and I don't want to register my son at another school and then transfer here after just a month. And I have my daughter,” she lied, pointing at Jennifer, “already registered at the school across the street.”

The secretary looked dubious. “For sure by the first of October? Our cut-off date is September thirteenth.”

“Would you please extend it for us? I need just a little more time. My parents passed away and I'm using my inheritance to buy the house, but I won't have the money for another month or so,” she said, looking directly into the secretary's eyes.

“Oh, I'm sorry.” Ms. Helpan's voice softened. “I'll talk with the principal and see if he'll make an exception.”

“Thank you very much.”

“You're welcome. Now, I still need to make a copy of your son's –” she scanned the paper for Danny's name.

“It's David. His name is David,” repeated his mother. “I'm sorry, he's been a little distant, what with his grandparents dying and all. He hasn't adjusted to things – yet.”

“Of course. It must be difficult.” She smiled at Danny but he remained stone-faced. “May I have his birth certificate?”

“I'm sorry,” Mom faltered. “I left that in Saskatoon by mistake. With some of the papers I left with the lawyer,” she finished lamely.

“Well,” she replied. “I'll have the principal call and let you know whether he can enroll here. You can give us a copy of the birth certificate and his school records then.” She looked at the form and furrowed her brows. “You haven't filled in your phone number,” she said.

“Our phone isn't connected yet. We just moved in yesterday. They said it would be about a week. I'll call you just as soon as we have it.”

“Ah. Very well. And you should know we can't pay for the bussing since you're out of the district.” The secretary seemed uncomfortable with all the uncertainties. She reached under the counter for another form and offered it to Danny. “Here, take this. It's a list of options. As soon as your spot's confirmed, I'll need to know your choices so we can schedule your timetable. And this is the school supply list.”

Danny didn't budge. His mom reached for the papers. “I'll take that,” she said, “and I'll be sure he fills it out.”

“That's fine. Well, good-bye…” the secretary looked at the form again “…Ms. Mayer. We'll be in touch.”

“Susan,” replied Catherine. “Please call me Susan.”

Once outside, Catherine spoke to Danny through gritted teeth. “You're not making this any easier. Would you
please
cooperate?”

“Didn't you teach me, if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all?”

She kept her eyes on her son. “Please?” she asked again.

He looked at the ground.

“Jennifer – Julia – let's go register at your school. David – you can wait outside, look around.”

Jennifer took her mom's hand as they crossed the street. Once they'd disappeared into the elementary school, Danny gazed around. Soccer pitches, baseball diamonds, playgrounds, and bicycle paths stretched behind both schools. Farther back, behind the junior high, it looked like there was still another school with a green belt all around it. In spite of himself, he was impressed. It'll do until Christmas, and it'll be great for Buddy, too.

Soon Jennifer and Mom came out, holding hands and laughing.

“That didn't take long,” Danny grumbled.

“The school didn't seem as hung up on details and I was better prepared,” his mom said. She stopped laughing and stared at Danny.

She sees I look like my dad, now that we're away from him. That's
why she never laughs with me,
he thought.

“Let's go,” Catherine said. “It's three-thirty and we can catch the bus straight home.” She smiled, but only with her lips. “Why don't you take Buddy for a walk?” Mom suggested as she unlocked the door. She didn't have to suggest it – Buddy insisted.

This time, the late-afternoon sun encouraged them to roam farther along the residential streets and bike paths separating one condo complex from another. People swung their cars into the mall parking lot to make last-minute dinner purchases. Instead of staying on the road, Danny turned right, toward the mall and the field. Sure enough, there was that school. Brown brick, single storey, with a flat tar and gravel roof. A tarmac skirt led to half a dozen portables strung along the sides. A few children took turns bouncing a striped rubber ball against the wall, careful to avoid the windblown paper cups and Styrofoam boxes at its base. Buddy was a kid magnet, so Danny detoured around them toward the portables.

Metal grates covered windows set high into the walls. Four wooden steps led to each padlocked, steel door. A tattered flag hung at the top of a steel pole that had once been painted white.

Danny crossed the dusty lawn.
Harry Smith Junior High,
he read. He circled the building, walking to the empty oil-stained parking lot. Beyond it lay a weedy field with a ball diamond backstop and a soccer pitch. He tilted his head to the side. How could the small field fit two playing areas? Dry grass crunched underfoot as he scanned the area. The two fields actually overlapped one another. Home plate was off to the side of the far goalposts. First base was scuffed into one half of the soccer field, and second base was on its touch line. Only third base lay outside the soccer field. A pitcher's mound, unevenly covered in red shale, sat right on the center line of the soccer field.

Queen Elizabeth Junior High was starting to look even better.

“Tomorrow we'll come back with your Frisbee, okay Bud?” he said to his impatient dog. They headed home for supper. Danny ignored the kids' pleas to play with the dog, and two sharp tugs got Buddy through the door.

“Oh good, you're home,” his mom said when the screen door slammed. “Your sister's out back playing with some kids. Would you please call her in?”

Peering through the back door he saw Jennifer off to the side, turning a skipping rope for some girls who looked a couple of years younger than she was. They giggled as each slap of the rope tore out a few more blades of grass.

Danny opened his mouth to call her and then caught his breath. What was he going to call her? He couldn't say Jennifer. He wouldn't say Julia. He turned and started for the stairs. “You call her. I'm feeding Buddy,” he snapped.

He grabbed the water dish and opened the basement door. A furnace and a stubby water heater took up one wall and empty storage shelves climbed another. The bag of dog food leaned against bare concrete between exposed wood studs. Copper pipes trailed down into a deep laundry tub. Someone had replaced one tub leg with a length of two-by-four. Yellowish-brown rust stains covered the bottom and crept up the sides of the once-white plastic sink. He quickly rinsed and filled the dog dish.

He heard his mother. “Jewel, come in, it's time to eat.”

Okay,
he thought.
Nicknames.
He'd never used his sister's nickname, but it kind of made it like it was before.
I can do nicknames,
he decided.

Jennifer chattered at the table. “They're mostly younger than me, Mom, but lots of 'em are girls, and it's almost like they're competing to play with me. It's kinda fun, they wanna show me everything. I mean, they're young and all, but I'll have lots of company 'till we move to the new house.”

“That's sounds great, Jewel,” Mom replied, stroking her daughter's arm. She turned to Danny. “What about you? Maybe you should get out and meet some of the kids….” Her voice hung in the air.