The Second Trial (17 page)

“No.”

“It'll give you some time to practice for school. They're young, they won't ask so many questions about you.”

Danny scooped the last of the macaroni and cheese into his mouth and pushed himself away from the table. Downstairs, he flipped on the TV and jerked back when the knob made a grinding sound like microphone feedback. He spun the channel knob through all the stations. All five of them. And one of them was French.

Great
, he thought, flopping onto the couch.
Welcome to the
five-channel universe.

Chapter 4

Tuesday and Wednesday were reruns of Monday. He resented the morning shopping trips, but they passed the time. Afternoons dragged by in front of the TV. Eat, walk the dog, TV, bedtime. When no one was looking, he picked up the receiver of the chunky telephone. A scratched plastic tag covered a smeared number. Still no dial tone.

On Thursday morning, the warm weather surrendered to solid rain.

“We've got enough groceries for now,” Mom announced. “Let's shop for school supplies. And,” she smiled, “we'll buy an umbrella.”

Danny used to love his annual school shopping trip almost as much as picking out Hallowe'en treats. Happy memories lightened his mood and he was the first one into the mall. He browsed through a forest of
Back to School
signs. He kneaded neoprene ballpoint pens and pungent markers between his fingers. He bent the cellophane-wrapped packages of lined paper until they squeaked. He ran his fingers along the spines of vinyl three-ring binders that snapped open and shut and smelled like blow-up pool toys. Mom helped Jen with her list, and soon only one item remained.

“Mom, what's a graphing calculator?” Danny asked. “I don't see anything like that here.”

Catherine flipped through the selection of calculators hanging from metal pegs. “You're right, I don't either. We'll have to ask.”

The clerk told her they were a specialty item she could buy only at an office supply store. In an upbeat voice, Catherine said “Good. I'd planned a trip downtown tomorrow, anyway. We'll get your calculator and buy each of you some new clothes for school.”

They divided the bags and carried them home. Danny spent most of the rainy afternoon in his room, sorting through his supplies, testing each pen before laying it in a neat pile. He realized he was going to need a few more things: a pencil case and a backpack for the bus. And he'd forgotten to buy a new eraser. Every year, his mom bought him a new one, even if he hadn't used up last year's. He loved the velvety feel of the pink rubber, its baby-powdery smell, and the way it flexed between his fingers. He decided to make a list.

When Danny took it to the kitchen to show his mom, he found her writing some figures on a pad of graph paper. She looked up and moved her arm to cover the receipts. But when her eyes met his, she dropped her elbow.

“Don't worry, Davey-boy, I've got enough money to get us through. I just have to keep track of it. Grandma and Grandpa will send us some cash when they sell our furniture and the other belongings, and after that, of course we'll be getting the money from the house sale. The court application to divide the property is today. I have a good feeling about it, Davey.”

Thinking about the court application gave him stomach butterflies. He dropped his list on the table and strode to the basement.

He must have fallen asleep in front of the TV, because the next thing he heard was his mother calling them for dinner. In the kitchen he looked again at the telephone mounted on the wall. He picked up the receiver. Still dead air.

He stayed quiet at dinner. Jen chatted more than she chewed. “The kids want to come over, Mom, and see my room.”

Catherine had kept a low profile for the five days they'd been here. Except for the trips to the store and the school, she'd stayed inside too. When she poked out her head to empty junk mail from the mailbox, some of the neighbors had tried to catch her eye or start conversations. She had smiled and waved and looked busy, and closed the door as quickly as possible. Now, Jennifer was ready to open the door and let the world in. Danny was not. Catherine hesitated and then gave her daughter a candid answer.

“Well, Jewel, I think that'd be okay, but your brother isn't ready for visitors yet, so you may bring your friends in, but leave your brother alone – deal?”

Jennifer didn't hesitate. “Deal!” she said, trotting for the door.

Catherine turned to Danny. “Even though it's still raining, I think you'd better get Buddy out for a walk. It doesn't look like it's going to clear up anytime soon.” The words ‘Buddy' and ‘walk' sent the border collie scrambling for his leash. Danny's mom smiled at him. “Don't forget your umbrella.”

The umbrella stayed propped in the corner. A boy pedaled a bicycle up the walk. He was six or seven years old, and didn't seem to notice his clothes were soaked through.“Can I walk your dog?” he asked, flicking his eyes back and forth between Buddy and Danny.

“Tell you what,” answered Danny. “You can hold his leash while I get my hat.”

“Sure,” he replied, thrusting out his hand. “Hi, boy,” he said. The boy abandoned his bike to wrestle with the dog. Buddy jumped back and forth across the boy's thin body, delighted to have a new plaything. “Can I come with you? Please?”

Danny surprised himself with how quickly he agreed. The boy hopped on his bike and eagerly asked, “Which way d'we go?”

“This way,” said Danny, as he started toward the
New Haven
sign.

The boy pedaled along in the gutter, keeping up a steady patter. Danny half listened. He wanted a dog, but his stepdad was allergic; he'd had a goldfish named Bubbles, wasn't that a stupid name but his sister had picked it, but Bubbles had died after a month and his mom wouldn't buy another one; he was going to start Grade 1 this year and Mom was going to make him walk with all the dorky girls…

As the boy droned on, Danny felt a tug of happiness. He was enjoying the company. No one had talked to him about normal things in months and months. He was lonely. He'd lost his old friends and hadn't made any new ones.

“…will you go to?”

The question caught Danny off guard.

“Which school will you go to?” repeated the boy.

“Um…, I can't remember the name. It's a ways from here.”

“Why don't you go to Harry Smith School?”

“'Cause we're not gonna live here long. Next month we're moving.”

“Oh.” The boy kept pedaling. “How come?”

“Just…because.”

The boy paused, considering Danny's answer. “Before you go, can I walk your dog?”

“Maybe,” he replied. “Maybe.”

It felt good to be wanted.

They squelched into the entry. He made sure the dog went downstairs before shaking the water from his coat. Danny jogged upstairs. As he was rummaging through the few remaining clean clothes, he could hear girls' voices through the bedroom wall. They seemed to be playing house, each one taking a different role.

Today's clothes were too wet to stash under the bed with the rest of his dirty laundry. They had to go into the laundry room. As he bent to scoop up the pile, a smell like moldy mushrooms wafted up
.
He carried the armload downstairs, losing a couple of socks along the way. He dropped the laundry and flicked on the light.

No washer.

No dryer.

Just the stained plastic laundry tub.

He left his clothes where they'd fallen, smacked the light switch, and kicked the door shut.

Chapter 5

A high-pitched ring woke Danny on Friday morning. It took him a few groggy moments to figure out it was the phone. Mom answered. Danny crept to the top step, not wanting his mother to know he was listening.

“Yes…that's a relief…How – how did he act?…No…. What's her best guess?…and the ID?…All right, well, Danny's really struggling. I think he still doesn't believe all this is necessary… Yes, the move should help. This place is a dive…Yes, what number can I call you at? Okay. Thank you. Good-bye.”

Danny slipped back into bed and lay there. It wasn't hard to figure out what they'd been talking about. Yesterday's application. He finally rose and went downstairs. The table was already set.

“Oh good, you're up,” his mom said. “I wanted to speak with you before your sister gets down.”

He sat and gulped his orange juice. He didn't put down the glass. Instead, he spun it around and around between his two hands, watching the liquid slosh up the sides. “Our phone works now. Did you hear it ring?”

He grunted.

“It was a man from NIVA. He was letting me know what happened in court yesterday. I want to tell you. I'm keeping my promise to you, not to hide anything anymore.” She took a breath and continued. “The hearing went as we expected. Your dad came to court and asked to know where we are. He said he wanted to see you – and your sister.

“The judge refused. But she did say he could come back to court in a year and ask again.”

Danny stared into the glass.

“The judge divided the property the way we asked. Your father got the insurance business, and I got the house. Because he doesn't get to see you, he doesn't have to pay any child support.” She licked her lips. “Paul will go into the house today to take some of his things. Then tomorrow, Grandma and Grandpa can start collecting our stuff. It'll only take them the weekend to sort through it. My lawyer has already arranged to list the house for sale on Monday.”

He tipped back the juice glass for another drink, but it was already empty.

“Danny,” she said earnestly, “things are going as planned. It's working out, and it'll keep working out – you'll see.”

He looked at his empty plate, then plunked down the glass and shoved his palms against the table until his chair balanced on two back legs.

“But,” he said, “if the judge said Dad could apply again in a year, then…” He stopped as he saw the tears gathering along her lower eyelids.

“Danny. You must believe me,” she said, her voice firm. “It'll
never
be safe to have contact with your dad. Not now. Not a year from now. Not ever.”

Danny dropped the chair's front legs to the floor and went upstairs without breakfast.

He lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He struggled to sort out his thoughts.

Maybe the whole mess had become too big for him to stop. It had seemed to have its own momentum, like a boulder rolling down a hill. Even Grandma and Grandpa seemed to think this was the right thing to do, and even Grandma and Grandpa didn't know his new name.
But I could run away again, back to Edmonton,
and live with Dad.
The Youth Emergency Shelter popped into his mind.
Where can you go when you can't go home
? What did it matter? By Monday, his home would be gone.

But if he went back to Edmonton he wouldn't see his mother. Or his sister. He and his dad would have to live in a different place.

I can never go home again.

I love my mother.

I want to love my father again.

I want to be Danny McMillan.

My plan is still the best one.

He massaged the taut muscles in his neck.
I'll go along with
things, wait a few months, then contact Dad, and make things right.
We'll move back, I'll live with Mom and see lots of Dad, Mom'll be
safe, and all of this will be just a bad dream.

He relaxed. His plan would work. In the meantime, he'd go along with his mother. He'd be nicer to her; he didn't want to see her cry anymore. He knew she'd already cried enough for a lifetime, and she was doing her best. A few months of this – he could do it. It wouldn't kill him.

He returned to the kitchen. “Is there any toast left? When do we go shopping? I thought of another thing – I need a new watch.”

He watched his mother's posture soften. “Toast coming up,” she said as she turned to the counter and smiled.

Shopping went well. They bought the rest of the school supplies, and Mom didn't blink an eye when the graphing calculator cost a hundred and twenty-five dollars. Danny picked up a copy of
Sports Illustrated
and a new CD. Jennifer chose a book on making paper dolls, while Mom treated herself to scented candles, a lighter, and the newspaper. They picked through a couple of department stores for their back-to-school clothes. He chose the latest digital sports watch – even better than the one he'd left at home – and a sturdy backpack.

They went beyond their six-bag limit and lugged their purchases onto the bus. When they got home, a manila envelope was sticking out of the mailbox. It was addressed to
Susan Mayer
, and the return address was a box number in Saskatoon.

Their new identities had arrived.

Catherine called both schools. She gave them the phone number, confirmed she had the papers, and said everything was going well and she expected to receive her inheritance soon. She hung up and went to Danny's room.

“They said they'd hold your place until September thirteenth. As long as we can show them a contract to buy a house before then, there's no problem.” She handed him a paper. “It's time to pick your options.”

He scanned the course descriptions: Outdoor Phys Ed, Choral Music, Band, Woodworking, Cooking and Baking, Art, French, Ukrainian, Chinese, German, Yearbook, Sewing, and Community Service. While he tried to make up his mind, he could hear his mother on the phone. “Yes, I'd like to see some houses in the Westlawn neighborhood…No, I don't…. Yes, that would be fine. See you tomorrow at one.”

Downstairs, he found her looking at the newspaper's real estate section. “There's a realtor coming tomorrow to take us house shopping,” she said brightly. She turned to another section of the paper. “What kind of car do you think we should get?”