The Second Trial (27 page)

“He's always loved science,” she said. “He collected butterflies, rocks, and books about dinosaurs. And sports – team sports especially – and fishing and camping. If we can just reach him on that level, doing the things he used to like, then I'm sure he'll go back to being the real David.”

The teachers nodded and took notes. The art teacher, Mr. Thompson, said, “I'm concerned about his skipping and what he does when he's not at school. David seems to like art. Maybe I can get him to express some of his feelings in a creative way instead of by withdrawing.”

The meeting ended with firm handshakes and a plan.

It was the coldest day yet – well below zero. His science teacher asked him to stay in at lunch to set up the afternoon's experiment. The class was studying mineral identification – using tracings and specific gravity to classify rocks. Because he couldn't think of an excuse, Danny agreed.

The forty-five minutes passed surprisingly quickly. Because of the things he had learned from his grandpa, he could already identify about half the samples. He was looking forward to running the tests on the others.

When he handed in his report, Ms. Tollman smiled. “Very good,” she said, scanning his conclusions. She wrote across the top:
100% A+
.

There was little flicker of warmth in his heart.

Then he missed his grandpa.

“We're looking for someone to play on the basketball team,” Madame Beauregard said later that week. “I think you have talent. Why don't you come to a practice? There are only a couple before Christmas. Mr. Miller starts coaching in January.”

Danny looked at his feet. He'd outgrown all his shoes. He'd gotten by in gym class with some second-hand sneakers, but he remembered the expensive high-tops his dad had bought for him in Grade 7. How could he play basketball in worn-out shoes?

When he looked up, Madame Beauregard held his gaze. “The school has a budget for athletic equipment. Why don't you buy yourself some new basketball shoes? Just bring in the bill and we'll give you back the money.”

He was too embarrassed to say thank you.

“The school's Christmas concert is next week,” Mr. Thompson announced. “We display artwork. It can be anything you've done so far this year, or you can do something new – it's up to you.” He circulated, talking to each student about the work he or she would put up. When he got to Danny, he looked through every piece in his portfolio.

“You know, I don't think any of this is your best work. Why don't you try a new piece? Maybe something to reflect the season – a rebirth, the end of the darkest days of the old year, greeting the sun and the lengthening days of the new year – even though in Winnipeg there's still going to be plenty of days cold enough to give us all freezer burn.”

He moved on to Nixxie. “It's going to be hard to pick just one of yours,” he said.

She smiled. Danny hadn't seen much of her over the last couple of weeks. He was hanging around with Chad and his buddies, and she didn't like Chad, so she kept to herself and her old circle of friends. A couple of times she'd worn the earrings he'd given her, then he hadn't seen them again.

But today he decided to speak to her. He felt more confident since he'd been admitted to Chad's group. Some of the other students even sought him out, wanting to spend time with him. But not Nixxie.

“I think you should choose that one,” Danny said, pointing randomly at one of her pieces.

She turned to face him. “Why?”

Not a question he'd anticipated.

“I…I like the colors,” he said lamely.

“It's mostly black and white.”

“Yeah…well…” he fumbled.
When you don't know what to say,
change the subject.

“So what do you think my new piece should be?”

She shrugged. “How should I know?”

He looked at her, again not sure how to answer.

“What do you like?” she asked.

He barely hesitated.

“You.” He smiled.

And it felt good not to lie.

Chapter 21

As soon as he got home from the store, Danny laced up the black-and-white sneakers and sprinted up and down the stairs. Buddy raced around behind him, barking and leaping from step to step. Danny dribbled an invisible ball and scored in an invisible basket. Buddy's barking rose to a frenzy and finally Danny collapsed on the floor. The border collie was all over him. Happy, happy, happy.

After his first practice, Danny hurt in all the places he used to be strong. His shoulders ached and his leg muscles twitched as if they were going to cramp. The gym, which had seemed so small, turned out to be plenty big enough for a challenging game.

His new runners were perfect. He'd forgotten how good it felt to be part of a team. Although the others were at first wary of him, his obvious talents soon overcame their suspicions. Andy, Rico, and Tom started passing him the ball. No one from Chad's group played on the team.

He told his mom about the practice and she listened eagerly, as if each word was salve on a wound.

Nixxie finally settled on a painting of the night sky – stars stitched into the Milky Way, shining through a glowing green pinwheel of northern lights. A few stars outshone the others.

“Ah, the Aurora Borealis,” Mr. Thompson said. “A wonderful choice. Remember to sign it before you frame it.” Danny cocked his head and watched her write
P.S.
in the bottom right corner.

Danny had wanted to make something new like the teacher suggested, but any idea he had fell flat even before it hit the paper. He ended up selecting a fish he'd drawn from a picture in a magazine. It was caught on a line, the hook still in its mouth. He took his pencil and darkened a few spots, then leaned over Nixxie's desk.

“So,” he said, pointing at hers, “is one of those the star of Bethlehem?”

“No.”

“No? I thought, since it was Christmas…”

“It's not the Star of Bethlehem.”

“Oh.”

She looked at him. “It's my name.”

“Your name,” he repeated.

“Yes. My name.” Then she turned her back and busied herself for the rest of the period.

On the last day of school, Danny avoided everyone. Suddenly the students' giddiness and the teachers' best wishes were unbearable. He hated Christmas. As much as he disliked school, at least there were people there. He dreaded the thought of being shut up in his house even more. It was almost enough to make him feel sick.

Almost. But he had a bone-deep, sick-making thought.

Christmas was the time he'd planned on calling his dad. The call that would kick-start his real life. They'd move home. Everything would be okay again. It'd be better than okay. It'd be the way life was supposed to be.

He ignored everything on the way home – his unbuttoned coat, the freezing air leaching the warmth from his bones. He ignored Julia's handmade Christmas decorations taped to the front window: Frosty the Snowman with cotton balls stuck to his body, Santa waving from a rooftop, snowflakes cut from white paper. He chucked his coat and boots at the front entry, trudged up the stairs, and locked his bedroom door.

He buried his head in his pillow and even ignored Buddy scratching at the door. The door stayed locked while Julia and his mom went for a Christmas tree.

They'd always had a perfect tree – a long-needled Scotch pine that barely fit through the front door. Dad would saw the bottom flat and release the fragrance of the forest. Then he'd secure it in the stand and put up his feet while the rest of the family decorated it. Every year, Danny and Jennifer fought over the tinsel. Jen loved it, but he hated it because Buddy would track it all around the house. The first year they had him, he ate it and got sick on the carpet. Dad had banished the puppy to the basement for the next two days, and Danny squirmed as he listened to him whine. Dad said it was the only way he'd learn. And Dad was always right.

Mom found a compromise. They'd have tinsel every second year.

Danny heard the front door open and shut. “Davey!” Mom called up the stairs. “Come down for lunch, and we'll put up the tree.”

He waited half an hour before he went down.

It was an artificial tree.

Wordlessly, he snatched his coat and Buddy's leash, and they bolted out the door. They stayed out until Buddy started taking mincing steps, trying to shorten the time his feet touched the frigid concrete. Reluctantly, Danny turned back to the condo and stomped through the door. He could see the Christmas hamper from the food bank on the kitchen floor. Mom had borrowed some Christmas CDs from the library, and Frank Sinatra crooned “White Christmas” as Mom and Julia draped the final decorations on the tree. It hadn't taken long – the tree was already strung with mini-lights when they brought it home. It was obviously a display model. The ornaments were mainly red, green, and gold baubles, made in China out of paper-thin glass. Some of them were still in the box, already broken.

A bargain-basement Christmas.

The jolly Santa didn't look old enough to shave, let alone grow a beard, when he arrived with the Santa's Anonymous delivery on Sunday. They used to donate to the Santa's collection box. Now this pathetic looking Santa left four wrapped packages for Julia and him and one for Mom. Julia shook each one before placing it under the tree. She'd always done that, he remembered, but it had angered Dad, so she'd do it when he wasn't around.

And they'd never had only nine presents under the tree.

He'd never felt this lousy. It was as if the holiday spirit had dried to dust in his heart.

Danny trudged over to the mall. He usually spent his measly allowance as soon as he got it on comic books, gum, pop, and chocolate bars. He hadn't saved up any money to buy his mother and sister a present, and this week's four dollars wasn't going to go very far. He drifted past window displays packed with things he couldn't afford, and the impossibility of having them made Danny want them even more. And there were those TV ads – happy families leading perfect lives chock-full of good times, laughter, comfort, and love. Everyone had what they wanted, and no one ever cried. Danny wanted the TV ad life, but what he lived was the six o'clock news.

Christmas Eve. Walking Buddy, the snow scoured his skin like sandpaper, and when it wasn't snowing the wind hit him dead center. Mom had lit candy cane scented candles around the house and more gifts had appeared under the tree. Danny retreated to the cold basement, cocooned in the old gray car blanket. Inactivity had paralyzed him and guilt had petrified him. paralyzed him and guilt had petrified He hadn't bought any presents.

And now it was too late.

Danny stayed under the covers until almost eleven o'clock on Christmas morning. He spent another hour shunning the Christmas music drifting up the stairs. He tried to block the smell of roasting turkey by shoving his blanket against the crack under the door. In the end it was Julia's pounding on his door that got him moving.

“Get up! I've waited all morning for you and I'm not gonna wait any more! I don't care if you stay in there all day!” The words came hard and fast from the nine-year-old.

When he was nine, he'd still believed in Santa Claus. Julia had waited until noon to open her few gifts. He clutched his stomach, went into the bathroom, leaned over the toilet, and retched.

Julia greeted him with her hands on her hips. “It's about time.” She'd divided the gifts into three piles. Danny had seven gifts, Julia had eight, and Mom had two.

“Can we start?” Julia asked.

Mom looked at Danny. “Do you…” her voice faltered.

He looked away.

“Sure, Jewel, go ahead,” Mom said.

Julia picked up the first box and shook it. It was large, rectangular, and flat, and made a faint rattling sound.

“It's a board game,” she announced, as she ripped off the
To
Julia from Santa Claus HO-HO-HO
tag and paper. It was a board game – Sorry. She bit her lip and began to sniffle. She already had the game, but she'd left it in Edmonton.

“Jewel,” Mom said softly. “It was fun to play before, and it'll still be fun to play now. Okay?”

“Yeah, Mom,” Julia replied, quickly swallowing and setting it aside.

Next was a book –
Walt Disney's Children's Cookbook
, brightly illustrated with Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, and Beauty and the Beast. Julia flipped through and asked Mom when she could start cooking.

“Any time, Jewel,” she replied.

“Look!” she said when the third box contained a string of mini lights covered in a rainbow of miniature, Japanese-style paper lanterns.

“Will you help me put these up in my room?” Julia asked, stretching them along the floor.

“Maybe David would help you,” Mom suggested.

Danny looked away.

A long narrow box tagged,
To Jewel with love from Mom
held soccer shin pads. She immediately tugged them on. “I can hardly wait for soccer season,” she said, prancing around the living room.

Soccer?
Danny thought.
When had his sister started liking soccer?
He looked over at her, and for the first time in a long time, she was not invisible. It was almost as if someone else's sister – a stranger – had appeared in the house, challenging the memories he had of his real sister.

“Here's some eggnog, Davey-boy,” Mom said gently. He reached for the glass and their eyes met. “How about opening some gifts?” When he didn't move, she nudged one over.

He stared at the tag.
To David, Merry Christmas from Santa
Claus HO-HO-HO
. A Santa's Anonymous gift for an anonymous boy. He opened it. It was a Teenager's Excuse Ball. Have a problem? Roll the ball for your excuse. Fifteen Options: 24-Hour Flu, Abducted by Aliens, Amnesia, Bicycle Problems, Full Moon, Huh?, I was Mugged, It's in the Mail, It's not My Job, I've got a Headache, Kryptonite, My Dog Ate It, My Fish Died, The Voices Told Me To, What Homework?