Blue Vengeance (20 page)

 

In the early morning just before he woke up Danny dreamed about Cookie. They were at The Bay, looking for a Christmas present for their mum. They checked their coats on the mezzanine floor so they wouldn't be weighed down. The idea was to start at the top, on the sixth floor and sail their way down to the basement where they would end up for chocolate malts, or
Bay basements,
as they called them.

They found earrings for their mum. Sparkly ones that clipped on.

He woke up before the chocolate malt part. Just as well, he thought. Cookie might have behaved badly if they'd gotten to the chocolate malts.

So James was his second thought when he woke up, not his first. He imagined being inside of his mother, not alone. He pictured the first six days of his life. Not alone. He missed James more than he could have imagined missing anyone and he knew through to his marrow that that would never change. He had missed him before he had ever heard of him.

Cookie would have been barely two years old, but maybe deep inside her head, she'd had a hazy recollection of another baby boy. Just not enough of a memory to talk about out loud. Danny wanted to turn back the clock and take Cookie to a hypnotist who would take her back in time. And then she would tell him everything, every minute detail, of those first six days.

He dreamed of a day when he could ask it of his mother.

The statement she uttered on Sydney I. Robinson day:
my dear lost boy.
It took on a whole new meaning. The realization was no comfort, but at least the words made sense now. And it didn't seem strange to him that she loved his dead brother more than him.

A quiet wave of buoyancy passed through Danny when he smelled bacon cooking and heard it sizzling in the pan.
James
.

He got dressed and went downstairs.

The three of them settled themselves around the kitchen table.

Danny looked at his mother the way he had looked at Janine when he convinced her that Miss Hartley was directly responsible for Cookie's death (even though he had always known it wasn't true). He looked straight into her grey eyes.

She met his gaze.

“Did he look like me?”

“Yes,” she said. “Very much like you.”

“Were we identical or fraternal twins?” He had learned about that in science.

“I don't know for sure. It was too soon to tell. But I think identical.”

“Did we weigh the same?”

“You weighed a wee bit more.”

No one touched a bite.

“Did he cry?”

“Yes, you both cried.”

“Who cried more?”

“Danny…” said Dot.

“No, Dot. It's okay. You cried more, Danny. I remember thinking afterwards you must have known.”

“Known?”

“Yes. Known you were going to lose him. That's crazy, I know.” She finally cast her eyes down.

“No, it's not crazy.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, and he felt a pull towards her, but he couldn't move.

Dot stood up and put an arm around her sister and handed her a Kleenex from her apron pocket.

 

He went upstairs after breakfast and sat in his chair. He realized he would be unable to tell Janine the story of James. He didn't want her to see his dad in a bad light.

 

Danny talked Janine into getting the job done before Thanksgiving, and then she talked him into letting her do it. He had lost track of any reason why she shouldn't.

Pumpkins were on sale at Dominion. He figured the rinds would be perfect for some last-minute practice and to use as targets the night of the “accident.” They could place chunks on top of the posts that edged the new parking lot. A big pumpkin was too unwieldy for his bike, so he bought three smallish ones and fit them into his carrier.

Dot was at the house when he got home. As usual, he hadn't known she was coming.

“Pumpkins.” There was pleasure in her voice. “Are you going to carve some jack-o'-lanterns, honey?”

“Yup.”

“Save the pulp and I'll whip up a pie or two.”

“'Kay.”

“I'm just here till tomorrow morning. The rapeseed is coming off the fields and I have to get home.”

She slid some scalloped potatoes into the oven.

“Uh, Paul has invited me over for supper,” Danny said. “I already said okay.”

“That's fine, dear. I'm not making anything fancy.”

Danny took the pumpkins, a sharp knife, and a bowl out to a spot behind the shed to get away from the eagle eye of his aunt. He cut up the pumpkins and separated the pulp from the rind. He put the pulp in the bowl and took it in the house.

“Thanks, dear. How's the carving going?”

“Slow.”

“Would you like a hand?”

“No, thanks.”

He went back outside, where he divided the target-sized chunks of rind into two plastic bags and hid one inside the shed for the next day.

After cleaning up the mess, he willed Aunt Dot to be out of question range and ran inside for his jacket and slingshot. He put Russell in the house, shouted a good-bye to his aunt, and headed back to the school with the bag of rinds banging against his thigh and some excellent stones in his pockets.

It was just after 5:30 and edges were beginning to blur in the fading light. The sky was a pastel blue behind the transparent clouds, one or two shades paler than the '57 Cadillac that haunted his daydreams.

Janine was already there.

“Pumpkin rinds,” she said.

“Yup.”

“Good idea. All I brought is a few cans. Now we won't have to waste time on retrieval.”

“That's what I was thinkin',” said Danny.

It was what they were calling the dress rehearsal. The eve of the grand performance: everything in place but the real thing.

He set up the rinds on the fence posts that had been built on two sides of the parking lot. They were flat on top, just like the ones in his yard.

Janine shot at them. He set up more rinds, and she shot at those, missing some just in case someone was watching

“Uh oh,” she said. “There's Russell.”

Sure enough, there was Russell running full speed towards them.

“My aunt Dot's here,” said Danny. “She must have let her out.”

“Is she going to be here tomorrow?”

“No, thank Christ. She's leavin' in the morning.”

They shot at the remaining rinds and left them where they lay, as evidence of the reality of their practice area. Few people had been by to witness their charade, which disappointed them both.

When Danny and Russell got home, Dot was in the kitchen rolling out the crust for pies.

“Hello, Danny. You're home early. It's good you and Paul have taken up again. I went outside to have a look at your jack-o'-lanterns, but I couldn't find them.”

“I ruined them. I threw them away.”

“All of them?”

“Yup.”

 

The next morning Dot knocked on Danny's bedroom door.

“Shit.” He whispered it to Russell, who lay beside him on the bed.

“May I come in, Danny?”

“Sure.”

“Your mum's still sleeping. She finally managed to nod off after being awake most of the night.”

She perched on the edge of his bed.

“I see a change in her,” she said.

“You do?”

“Yes, honey, I do. I think she's coming round some. She's trying to take fewer pills, and I think it's making a difference. She seems a little more…alert, I guess is the word.”

Danny hadn't noticed, but he hadn't been paying the slightest attention. And now he was in the middle of realizing that today was the day, so he had to struggle to listen to his aunt.

“I just wanted to mention it so you could maybe try to be…I don't know, receptive to her if she makes an effort.”

He heard the sound of her voice, but the individual words were lost on him.

“It's most likely she'll continue to have trouble sleeping, what with cutting back on the pills, but we can hope that'll improve.”

Danny's mind was on the school grounds with Janine and the setting sun.

“I wanted you to know, I've put the idea of you coming out to the farm on hold. I've spoken to Lena, and she's going to do a little more cooking. I know you want to stay here, Danny, with your friends and activities and such, so we'll continue on as we are and hope that your mum continues to make progress.”

Good. She was saying something good.

She stood up and smoothed her skirt.

Danny threw back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His pajamas had trains on them and stopped halfway up his calves.

Dot smiled. “Looks like you need some new pajamas. This is quite a growth kick you're on.”

She leaned over and kissed him on top of his head. As she left the room she described pumpkin pies and casseroles and what was where. She kept talking all the way down the stairs.

 

It was a windless Tuesday. The girls' basketball team had a game after school so Miss Hartley would be there till 6:30 or so. After classes, as arranged, they both went home to feed their parents.

Danny made Kraft Dinner and wondered if it was the last thing he would ever make. The whole day had been like that, right from when he set his two feet on the floor to get out of bed. He had no intention of dying, but he felt a finality in every move he made. It wasn't unpleasant.

For a second he caught the aroma of a chocolate cake baking and he felt a familiar movement inside his chest. Then both were gone.

The powdered cheese from the Kraft Dinner seemed distasteful to him for the first time.
Yuck
. More like powdered orange chemicals. Agent Orange. The stuff the Americans used to poison Vietnam and everybody who lived there. He'd heard about it on television back before Cookie died.

When he presented the pile of muck to his mother, she said, “Thanks, Danny. One of these days soon, I'm going to get up off this chesterfield and cook you your favourite supper.”

That was a shock. He didn't want shocks on this of all days. It was enough that Dot had come and gone.

“You're welcome,” he said.

He didn't know what his favourite supper was. Did he have one? Would she have an answer to that if he asked? He didn't want to put either of them through it.

Back in the kitchen, he couldn't get his food to go down so he threw the orange mess into the garbage.

Russell watched him do it.

“Sorry,” Danny said.

His mother ate every bite of hers.

Russell didn't like being left at home, but Danny closed both back doors firmly against her eager little face. Then he stopped at the shed to pick up the remaining pumpkin rinds.

He worried that they had left it too late. Even one week ago things would have been clearer, cleaner. But Janine had argued for the change in light. She could handle it. She could do this.

“Have you got the stone?” She stood with her hands in her back pockets, leaning against the school at the western entrance.

“'Course.”

He'd carried it in his pocket since the day he found it.

Miss Hartley's Volkswagen and Mr. Potter's Hudson were the only cars left in the teachers' new parking lot. The bus that had brought the visiting team and their fans was parked in front of the school.

“I thought her car was blue,” said Danny.

“Nope. Green. More of a bluey green, really.”

“I could have sworn it was blue.”

“Blue. Green. What's the diff?”

Janine was shooting stones at anything.

“The diff is one's blue and one's green,” said Danny. “Maybe she got it painted.”

Janine emptied her pockets of stones and moved them into a tidy pile with her foot.

“So, teach me,” she said.

There were more people around than on the previous evening. Mostly kids coming and going through the school doors. Game day.

“It feels weird,” said Danny. “You're better than me.”

“We've been through this. And don't talk so loud if you're going to say things that aren't fake.”

“Okay.” Danny cleared his throat. “The main thing is concentration. It's a bit like bows and arrows in that way.”

“Do you shoot bows and arrows?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know?”

“I don't. But it figures.”

He crouched down and studied her stones.

“The size of the projectile is important too.” He hefted one in his hand. “You look to have done a good job choosing yours.”

“What should I aim at?”

“I'll place these pumpkin rinds on top of the fence posts, and we'll start with those.”

“Okay, good. I'll shout out which one I'm aiming at, like when you call out the balls and pockets when you're playing pool.”

“Do you play pool?”

“A little. I've gone with my dad to the Coronation pool hall.”

“Is this real talk or fake?” Danny said quietly.

“Real.”

“Okay. Down to business.” He put one rind on each of ten posts.

“Second from the left,” said Janine and missed the shot.

“Nice try,” said Danny. “Was that real or fake?”

“Fake, you moron.”

“Shh.”

“Okay, from now on everything's fake. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Third from the right.” She missed again.

They discussed each shot and celebrated loudly when she hit one and then another.

Their play-acting wasn't for nothing. Other kids were playing baseball at the south end of the field, out of listening range, but not out of sight. And Mr. Roberts at the corner house on Balsam Place was messing around in his front yard. The Coniston bus stopped at the corner of Highfield and Pinedale, and two men and one woman got off. The men trudged home across the school grounds. The woman took the sidewalk.

They talked louder when people went by.

“Good shot.”

“Watch this. Oops.”

“Not bad, not bad.”

The flow of people began to lessen, and the light began to fade.

“Let's not do it today.” Danny looked at his watch. “It's gettin' too dark.”

“There she is,” said Janine.

It was 6:35, and Miss Hartley exited the building.

Janine reached out her hand, eyes on the teacher, and Danny took the chosen stone from his pocket and placed it on her palm. She settled it in the pocket of her slingshot and waited for her moment.

Miss Hartley walked towards her car, teetering on high heels, something Danny had never seen before. She was more inclined towards low heels and running shoes. She rummaged in her handbag. Stopped, started, stopped.

Water sounds floated over from Birchdale Betty's yard.

She started again, and Danny worried that Janine had missed her chance. Miss Hartley had found her keys and paused for two seconds at the driver's door.

Janine took her shot, and the teacher went down like a wounded marionette, fell to rest in a crumpled pile.

They looked at each other and turned towards the back lane between Pinedale and Balsam. Mr. Roberts was gone. At first they walked quickly, their sneakers crunching on the gravel.

“Who's there?” Birchdale Betty called over from her yard. Her hearing was legendary. She was watering her fir trees — something she did every fall before winter set in.

Their footsteps quickened to a run, down Highfield to the river.

“We should have stayed.” Danny gasped for breath. “We were gonna stay.”

“Running seemed the only thing to do.”

“I know, but we have to go back.”

“It's too late.”

“What if somebody saw us?”

“I don't think anyone did.”

“Birchdale Betty yelled.”

“She doesn't count,” said Janine.

Danny's heart would not slow down. “I don't know. This might be the only time in history when people pay attention to what she says.” Blood pounded in his head. “It might not be too late to go back.”

They stood inside the deepening dark until breath came more easily.

“We should have gone over the afterwards part more.” Danny sat down in the tall grass. “So we knew exactly what we were gonna do.”

“It's okay,” said Janine.

“What do you mean it's okay? How can it possibly be okay?”

“I missed the shot.” She sat down beside him.

“What?”

“I didn't make the shot. My wrist twitched.”

“But…she went down. She fell down beside her car.”

“I know that.”

“At the exact same time that…”

“I didn't hit her.”

“This is impossible.”

“I would think so too if I didn't know otherwise.”

“Maybe you just think you didn't hit her. Your mind could be playin' tricks on you.”

“I hit her car,” said Janine. “I heard the plink.”

“What happened to her, then?”

“I don't know.”

Danny imagined the shape of her now, getting lost in the shadows of the autumn night.

Then the sound of an ambulance wailed in the distance, came closer, was right on top of them. They both stood up.

“Maybe she died of fright when she heard the plink,” said Danny. “Let's go back.”

“No. If we were going to check on her we should have done it at the time. That would have been the normal thing to do, not checking on her seven hundred hours later, after we've thought about it, and everybody else in the world is already there.”

“We could watch from a distance.”

“No.”

“What'll we do then?”

“We'll wait till tomorrow to see what happened.”

“Easy for you.” Danny didn't know why that was so, but it seemed to be the case.

“Danny. Look at me.”

She held him by the shoulders, and her eyes drilled holes into his.

“We didn't do it. We didn't pull it off. There's nothing for us to get into trouble for.”

Danny stared back without flinching.

“If you say so.”

“I do. I say so.”

They walked down the riverbank as far as they could towards St. Mary's Road and then climbed up onto Lyndale Drive.

“You never miss,” said Danny.

“I missed tonight,” said Janine.

They went to Bober's for some penny candy.

Danny stood in front of the gum machine and stared at the round balls inside the plastic bubble. Only two blacks visible in the sea of white, blue, red, green, orange, yellow, pink. Lots of pink. Whose idea was this? Every kid wants black. The familiar rage tore through him. There should be a gum machine that had all blacks. He wondered if there was such a thing anywhere in the world.

He bought a package of Black Cat gum — the kind in sticks.

Janine stole a licorice pipe and a few caramels.

“I can't believe you stole, tonight of all nights,” Danny said when they were back on the street.

“I've never paid for candy at Bober's,” said Janine. “I'm not about to start now.”

“Jesus Christ,” said Danny. “I have to go home.”

“Why?” she said. “It can't even be eight o'clock.”

“I've had enough for one day.”

She let him go without further argument, and he headed home down Coniston. He didn't have the wherewithal even to open his pack of gum; the act of chewing seemed far too strenuous.

Russell greeted him at the door in a full-out frenzy.

His mother called out. “Is that you, Danny?”

“No. It's Danny Kaye,” he said.

“Come and see me a minute.”

She was sitting up.

“Let me look at you.”

Had the whole world changed tonight?

“You look shaken. Is something wrong?”

“No.”

She had lipstick on.

He plodded up the stairs to his room. This was no time for his mum to start paying attention to him. He hoped her sudden burst of energy would burn itself out overnight.

After a half hour or so he tiptoed back downstairs and phoned Janine. There was no answer. She was probably across the street giving Rock Sand a blow job.

“Danny?” said his mum.

He snuck back up the stairs to his room and closed the door.