I Forgot to Tell You (11 page)

The last notes of the song died away, and Leah clapped her hands. “Good, everyone. Julian, Frida, very
simpatico
, nice work.”

After they had finished, Julian got changed next to Tristan, but Tristan was oddly quiet. They went out into the hall to find Alexandra.

“Hey.” Frida was sitting on the bench in the hall. “Trade numbers? I'll let you know if anything goes down, you can decide then if you want to be involved.”

Alexandra and Tristan stood behind him as he traded numbers with her, and Julian was awkwardly conscious of them watching. “I'll add you on Facebook, too,” Frida said, smiling at him. “I really hope I can get you involved on something soon — it's just, first we need the something that you could be involved on.”

“Yeah.” Julian laughed. “Okay. Nice meeting you. Bye.”

The three of them walked out, Tristan and Alexandra walking very tightly on either side of him. Tight as in Julian had difficulty walking without stepping on their toes. “What was that?” Alexandra asked at the same time that Tristan said,“I've never seen you try and act professional before.”

Julian shrugged, embarrassed. “Did I really look like I was trying to act professional?” he asked Tristan.

“It wasn't
that
bad,” Tristan relented. “It's just because we know you that we noticed.”

“Oh. Good,” Julian said, relieved. They started walking to the bus loop. Leah's studio was in the middle of low-income suburban nothingness, and there was shop after empty shop along the street, the kind that sells windows, or carpet-cleaning services. At the end of the street there was an empty bus loop and a McDonald's.

“What's the story, then?” Alexandra demanded impatiently, looping her arm in his. Tristan did the same on the other side. Julian decided his friends were strange.

“Leah told me that Frida was trying to start up a small contemporary company,” Julian said uncomfortably, highly aware that Leah had told him, who she barely knew, and not Alexandra and Tristan. “I think it was because you told her that I liked choreographing, Alexandra.”

Alexandra frowned. “
Frida
is starting a contemporary company? But she isn't any good. Well, she's okay, but not brilliant.”

Julian yawned. “I don't know, dude.”

They sat at the bus bench and Alexandra phoned her parents, trying to get them to pick up and give her a ride home. “Ugh!” she said after finally getting through to them. “They want me to bus back to downtown; they said they would pick me up there.”

“Uh —” Tristan said pointedly.

Alexandra sighed. “Yes, you may sleep over Tristan. But you're not borrowing a shirt. You got tomato soup all over that white one of mine last time.”

“Yay. There are, like, no buses near my home,” Tristan explained to Julian. Julian nodded; it was getting close to ten o' clock and it was probably going to take him close to an hour to get home since all the buses that he needed to take stopped running frequently at this time of night.

They got on the almost-empty bus. The bus driver made them all show their student ID to prove that they qualified for their bus passes, looking suspicious.
Geez
, Julian thought impatiently,
does he really have nothing better to do?
If he were a bus driver, he would never check that sort of stuff. It was the kind of thing that could be left for the transit police to do. The bus went on its way, stopping to let only a few people get on or off each stop, and Julian fell half-asleep, leaning his head on Alexandra's shoulder as Tristan did the same to him.

By the time Julian got home, the clock on the kitchen microwave said it was eleven. Which meant it was probably about ten minutes past eleven, or maybe a quarter to. Julian grabbed his dinner out of the fridge and took it to his room to eat. He could see all of the homework he had to do, spread out all over the room, but he was too tired to even pick it up and sort it out, let alone actually do it. Instead, he picked up Theresa's biography and continued reading it. He was almost at the chapter that talked about Isaac, but he was trying to force himself to read it in order. He ate his green vegetables and ham and mashed potatoes slowly, as he read about the first time Theresa guested in Belgium.

Kaitlyn Wardle

Watching The Big Bang Theory with my mom — so cool :p

Kaitlyn spun around in front of the mirror, trying to see her butt. It had to look smaller; she had lost five pounds.
Okay, I just can't see it
, she decided.

“Kaitlyn, come on!” Jeff yelled from downstairs. “You are going to be late for school.”

“Coming …” Kaitlyn picked up her backpack and ran downstairs, joining her father in his car.

“How's school?” Jeff asked. He had a set of questions that he asked while he drove her to school, and asking about school was one of them. Along with, “How is your peer group rating?” a question he found hilarious because it was taken from an old
Peanuts
cartoon, and “How is dance?”

“School's good.”

“Really? Have you had that course-planning session with your counsellor yet?”

“Not yet, Dad. I know what I'm going to put down, though.”

“Have you thought about what you are going to take in grade eleven and twelve yet?”

“Not really.”

“Do you have any idea what you would like to take in university if you go?”

“Nope.”

“You could always go to university to take dance, I suppose,” Jeff said, thinking.

“Dad, that's totally stupid. You aren't going to be dancing for a good ballet company if you are going to university for dance. If I ever went to university, it would definitely be for something academic.”

“Okay. That makes sense.”

“It's a while before I have to think about this, anyway.”

“It's coming faster than you think, Kaitlyn. But okay. Have a good day.” She climbed out of his car and began walking up to the doors of McKinley Secondary. She was tired of thinking about her future. Discussions on the topic both scared and bored her. She pushed open the doors and walked toward a round table that had been taken over by a group of Super Achievers students.

“Hey guys.”

They ignored Kaitlyn, the decibel level of their conversation too high to even hear her. She sat down next to Cromwell Gilly. McKinley let him put on a fashion show each spring, a half-hour show where students wearing his work paraded down a long runway he created down the steps inside the school.

“Sweetie, just wait till you see her dress. Bright yellow to bring out her hair, bits of blue — sweetheart, there's even a
train.
” He was talking to Sasha, a rhythmic gymnast, about Taylor's dress.
Of course he's getting Taylor to model for him
, Kaitlyn thought, jealous, but agreeing with his choice. If she was a designer she would want Taylor to model her stuff, too.

Keiko came up to them, looking perfect as always. Kaitlyn wasn't sure how she always managed to look so calm and ordered. Her clothes always matched, she did her makeup perfectly, and she apparently had gotten up early enough this morning to bring a thermos of tea. “Keiko! Sweetheart, you're still going to be in my show? Right? Right?”

“Of course,” Keiko said, smiling. “Be calm, Cromwell Gilly, I said I will do.”

“Okay, you are going to just die so dead when you see what I made for you. I have been working my fingers to the bone for it. At first, I was like, I can't make you a kimono-themed dress. That's racist. And then I was like, why is that racist? It's fricking brilliant! You are going to love it.”

“Okay.”

Julian collapsed at the bench beside them, buried his head in his arms, and promptly had to lift his head again so that he could yawn.

“Good morning,
sunshine!
What have you been up to, sweetheart?”

“Dancing. Reading,” Julian mumbled from the depths of his elbow.

“Want to be a part of high fashion?”

“If I have to. Do I get to do my own makeup?” Julian suddenly sat up, an expression of unholy glee on his face. “I'll do it if I can put on my makeup.”

“No. I don't trust you.”

“Fine. Cromwell Gilly, do you know what would make your show even better?”

“Two of me?”

“No. One of you is enough. Imagine if instead of having your iPod playlist on while they're coming down the runway, you played the drums.”

“Absolutely not. I'll be way too busy.”

“Fine, fine … I still think it might be cool, though. And like, you could have everyone dance once they reached the bottom? It would be so sweet.”

“Jules. Look at me, sweetheart. Do I look like I want to put on musicals? No.”

“Oh! I didn't even think of that. Of course you should have one of the opera singers join in too. They could be singing like … like … ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.' Your dresses always remind me of that song. Are you okay, Cromwell Gilly?”

Cromwell Gilly gulped. “Jules, somewhere in that ocean of idiocy is a genius trying not to drown. That is the name of my show. It's perfect.”

“What?”

“
Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.
That's the theme of this show. It's so perfect!”

“Glad I could help.” Julian put his head back down and promptly fell asleep.

Kaitlyn was up and out of her seat the second the bell rang. She had thought that Taylor was annoying in class with her incessant talking, fidgeting, and texting, but the alternative was apparently absolute boredom. She had no one to talk with in class now, and nothing to do but doodle, which — because she was painfully bad at drawing — was extremely unsatisfactory. She hurried out into the hall, doing up her jacket, and was accosted by Jessica and Jonathon. “Hey, hey, stop, kid,” Jonathon said. “I heard that Mr. Angelo was handing out the yearbooks early to Super Achievers students. Come on, let's go get ours.”

“Okay,” Kaitlyn said. They ran up the next flight of stairs to where the English classrooms were and down the hall to Mr. Angelo's classroom.

Somebody was already there, talking to Mr. Angelo. They stopped outside, realizing that it was Alexandra. He was talking quietly and they couldn't hear what he was saying. “Let's just go in,” Kaitlyn said impatiently. “Come on, we're going to miss the bus.” Kaitlyn walked into the classroom and Jessica and Jonathon followed her. “Oh.”
Crap.
Alexandra was holding a pile of journals and her yearbook, and she looked like she had been crying.

“Be with you in minute, guys,” Mr. Angelo said quickly. “So, Alexandra, you can handle this for me? It's a bit out of the proper procedure — if there is a procedure for this sort of thing — but I think it would be better coming from you.”

Alexandra nodded.

“Okay then. I should probably put them in a sealed envelope —” Mr. Angelo dug around on his messy desk and found a large brown envelope. He put one of the journals that Alexandra was holding inside, carefully licked it and closed it. On the outside he wrote
FOR MRS. CASTILLO
in Sharpie, and then marked the date. He paused and looked at Alexandra. “Do you think I should also put my phone number? In case she wants to ask me something?”

“Yes,” Alexandra said decisively.

“All right. Thank you for handling this for me, Lexi. And if you ever change your mind about helping out with the newsletter, or just want to contribute to a small section of it, let me know.”

“Okay. Thanks, Mr. Angelo.”

“Now, you guys, here for yearbooks, am I right? All of you are in Super Achievers, no fakers? Last year I got in trouble with Mr. Murray because I let some regular students get theirs early, and that apparently led to anarchy.” Mr. Angelo chuckled at his own wit and gave Kaitlyn, Jessica, and Jonathon their yearbooks.

They took them quickly and ran for the bus; just as they ran up to the stop, the bus pulled out. “Really? Really?” Jonathon complained. “He totally saw us. That bus driver hates us.”

“Jonathon, the bus driver does not hate you,” Jessica sighed.

“What was that about?” Kaitlyn asked Alexandra quietly as Jessica and Jonathon continued to argue.

Alexandra shook her head. “Mr. Angelo wanted to talk to me about writing an article that focuses on things that the Super Achievers students were doing. I haven't decided yet if I have time to do it, though.”

“What about the envelope?”

“You know those journals that they make us keep at the beginning of class?”

“Yes …?” Kaitlyn said, not sure where Alexandra was going with this.

“Well, I'd forgotten to pick up my journals from grade ten, so I went by to pick them up.”

“What? They were still there? Alexandra, that's, like, a year.”

“Yeah, he has a whole filing cabinet of old journals that people had left. Like, really old ones. And he found mine, and then he found one left by Mrs. Castillo's daughter.”

“Mrs. Castillo had a daughter?” Kaitlyn exclaimed. She had never thought of Mrs. Castillo having a daughter. She didn't seem like the sort of person who would have children. “I didn't even know she was married.”

“What do you think the
Mrs.
is for?” Alexandra said sarcastically.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess that makes sense. But where is her husband, then?”

“Still in Cuba, I think. Mrs. Castillo came over here with her daughter when the Demidovskis gave her a job, and her husband couldn't come. I'm not sure why.”

“So … where is her daughter?”

“Um … she was in a car accident in England, several years ago. She died.”

Kaitlyn stared at her, realizing now why that journal was such a big deal. “Oh, geez.”

“Exactly.” The next bus pulled up to the bus stop, and they got on.

“Sign my yearbook?” Jessica asked Alexandra.

“Later,” Alexandra snapped. “We can all sign at the academy.” Kaitlyn stared out the window. She couldn't picture having Mrs. Castillo as a mother.

The academy was suffering the effects of a full year with not enough sun, and when the sun finally came out, it highlighted all of the dirt and grime coating the building, inside and out.

“Seriously, has anyone found out if they have a janitor yet?” Kaitlyn complained.

“Just clean it yourself if it bothers you so much,” Jonathon said, irritated.

Taylor came up to Kaitlyn, a huge smile on her face. “Sign mine?”

“Wait, how did you get a yearbook? You don't even go to McKinley anymore.”

“Yeah, but I paid my school fees. I got Angela to bring mine for me.”

“Okay …” Kaitlyn sat down on the floor and traded yearbooks with Taylor.

Taylor handed her a sparkly green gel pen to write her message. “I'm getting everyone to write in a different colour,” she explained.

“Um, okay …”

“What colour do you want me to write for yours?”

“Um, up to you.”

“I'm going to do it in this pink one then. I call one of the blank pages in the back.”

“Okay.” Kaitlyn started to write.
Hey, Tay, it's been great dancing with you this year! HAGS, love you. Kaitlyn.
She looked up; Taylor was still writing. And writing. And writing. “Hey, when do you think you will be finished, Taylor? I want to get other people to sign, too, before class starts.”

“‘I'll be done soon,” Taylor said absently. “I'm trying to describe our year so that you can remember it. How do you spell ‘oranges'?”

“
O-R-A-N-G-E-S
, I think. Okay, you can keep my book for a bit, I'm going to go get changed.”

“Okay.” Kaitlyn left Taylor and went downstairs. There was a commotion in the girl's change room, and she began to walk faster, not wanting to miss whatever was happening.

There was a circle around Mao, who was sitting on the bench, crying. “What's wrong?” Kaitlyn asked.

“She has to go home,” Keiko said sadly. “And she doesn't want to. She doesn't want to work in Japanese ballet company, she wants to work in Canadian ballet company, and if she leaves, where will she go?”

“Oh.” Kaitlyn stood there awkwardly. She wasn't close to Mao. “Aren't they at least going to let her finish up the year?”

“Yes, but she can't come back in September.”

“Mao, I'm sorry. Maybe you can still get a job in Canada.”

Mao shook her head, tears rolling down her face. “Not easy,” she said. Kaitlyn got changed quickly and headed upstairs, wanting to get away from the awkwardness.

Upstairs, Aiko had dropped by and was being hugged to death in the hallway by everyone along with Leon. Mr. Yu was going to give her a ride to the airport later, she was telling Alexandra. Kaitlyn was surprised to see that Alexandra looked extremely choked up about Aiko leaving.

“I remember when you first came to Canada,” Dimitri said, sprawled out on one of the chairs, laughing at the fuss. “You were so cute, but you got lost all the time!”

“Oh … I forget that,” Aiko laughed. “Yes, I always used to get lost, ‘where is bathroom?' ‘where is bus stop?', ‘help, how I get home?'”

Dimitri laughed. “Yup. That's how I'm going to remember you.”

“Please, no,” Aiko said firmly. “Now I don't get lost … so much. Now I can read English!”

Kaitlyn giggled. “When did you come here, Aiko?” she asked, curious.

“When I was thirteen,” Aiko said, smiling. “Now I am eighteen — I am old.”

“You came here when you were thirteen? Wow, I didn't know that.” Kaitlyn thought about that. She couldn't picture going to Japan by herself when she was thirteen and not being able to read the signs or understand the other students. She also couldn't picture her mother ever letting her try.

“Good luck,” Tristan said, hugging her and Leon.

“Time to go, time to go,” Mr. Yu said impatiently, walking over. “You want to miss plane?” He looked at Tristan and winked. “When you get job, uh? Soon? You getting old …”

“Er … working on it,” Tristan said uncomfortably. Aiko and Leon disappeared out the door.