Rattled (2 page)

“Ouch!” I yelled. Jilly had my arm in a death grip and was digging her fingernails into my flesh.

“Look!” She was practically jumping up and down.

I rubbed my arm and followed her gaze to see what the big deal was. Then I saw it.
Him
.
Him
was beautiful. I hated to admit it, but I think my mouth actually fell open.

“He's stretching!” Jilly shrieked, right into my ear.

I moved out of her reach before she did permanent damage. I continued to watch the scene outside unfold. Dragging my eyes from the boy, I noticed a girl. She was blonde and beautiful, just like the boy. She looked about my age. Hmmm…the boy was probably older? Maybe about Jilly's age? Was there no justice?

Then there was the mother. She wasn't blonde
or
beautiful. The word
sharp
popped into my head, and not the good kind. Tall, thin, pale, all pointy angles and edges, like a villain straight out of a Disney movie. A black cat appeared and circled the mother's legs. I smiled, thinking how appropriate that somehow seemed.

“What should we do?” Jilly asked, wringing her hands.

“Well, you could go over, say hi, introduce yourself,” Mom suggested.

“Oh yes! That's
exactly
what we should do.” Jilly turned and grabbed me by the shoulders. I cringed, bracing for the pain. “Go fix yourself up and we'll go over together.”

I squirmed out of her grasp. “It's okay, I think I'm good to go.”

She gave me a quick once over and shrugged her shoulders. “Suit yourself.”

I watched her bend at the waist, swing her head full of blonde hair back and forth a couple times, then straighten up. It was like watching a shampoo commercial. I sighed as she pulled out a tube of lip gloss, whipping the wand around with unimaginable precision and speed. She didn't even use a mirror. I was still shaking my head when we left the house.

The new neighbours were milling around the van, lifting out assorted boxes and suitcases, when we arrived in their driveway. The boy put down the box he was holding and smiled when he saw us. I really wished I had fixed my hair and put on some lip gloss.

No one seemed to want to speak first, so I took the plunge. “Hi.”

“Welcome to the neighbourhood,” Jilly gushed.

“I'm Lydia,” I said.

“And I'm Jilly.”

The girl came and stood by the boy. The mother remained on the other side of the van, talking on her cellphone.

“I'm Sam,” the boy said. “This is my sister, Megan, and that's,” he gestured with his head, “our mom.”

“Hi.” The girl smiled shyly and gave a tiny wave.

I fiddled with my watch strap, trying to come up with something intelligent to say. “So…where you guys coming from?”

The mother snapped her cellphone shut and joined our circle.

“Ottawa,” she answered for them. “We've just come from Ottawa.”

“Mom, this is Lydia and Jilly. They live across the street,” Sam said.

“Hmmm, yes, I can see that.”

“My friend Daisy moved to Ottawa three years ago,” I said. “We drive up for Easter every year. Where'd you live in Ottawa?”

Again it was the mother who answered. “A small place. I'm sure you've never heard of it.”

“Did it have a mall?” Jilly piped up.

The mother seemed confused by the question. “Yes…”

“Then chances are we were probably there. See, I'm a bit of a shopaholic,” Jilly said, talking out of the corner of her mouth. “I'm sure there isn't a mall in Ottawa I haven't been to.”

“That's nice,” the mother said, then turned to the kids. “Megan. Take that cooler inside and put the things in the fridge.” Her cellphone rang and she stepped away to answer it.

Jilly threw me a “would ya get a load of her” look.

“Well, it was nice to meet you,” Megan said politely. She seemed a bit embarrassed.

“Yeah, you too. Things can get kind of boring around here in the summer.”

Megan smiled another shy smile and bent over to pick up the cooler.

“Now it's
so
not boring,” Jilly added, making her lips kind of pouty and giving Sam her best
Next Top Model
look.

I rolled my eyes. She was at it already.

Sam swiftly intercepted the cooler from Megan. “I'll take that for you, Meg. It's heavy.” He turned to us. “So…maybe we'll see you around.”

“Definitely,” Jilly and I answered in unison, both nodding like a couple of Bobblehead dolls,
idiot
Bobblehead dolls.

The mother returned. “Yes, well, we're going to be busy for quite a while.” She looked at me and Jilly like we were something she'd scraped off the bottom of her shoe. “There's a lot to be done. Megan, get Peter and take him inside.”

Megan quickly scooped up the cat.

Before Jilly or I could even say bye, the mother corralled Sam and Megan and herded them up the driveway.

Jilly and I just stood there looking after them, and then at each other.

“Well
that
was kind of weird,” I said.

“No kidding. Who names a cat Peter?”

I raised my eyebrows. “I'm talking about—”

“Duh,” she interrupted, giving me a shove. “The mother…I know. She seriously needs a personality transplant or something.”

“She never
did
tell us where they lived in Ottawa. Did you notice that?”

“Yeah well, let's forget her and focus on
other
things.”

“Oh, I know what
you're
focusing on.”

“And by the way, I call first dibs, you know, on Sam,” she clarified.

“What? What about Clark?”

“Clark?!” she exclaimed. “He's like
so
last week!”

I stopped and stared at her. I could have sworn Clark had been standing in our kitchen…well…just the week before…so I guess she was right.

“It's a lot of work finding your soulmate,” she continued. “Sam might be the one, you know.”

What could I say? “Fine,” I muttered under my breath.
Curse
the law of first dibs.

We walked across the street. Jilly started humming. I knew she was lost in her own world, probably picturing how Sam would look in a tux taking her to the prom.
I
was thinking about the mother. Besides the obvious, there was just something I couldn't put my finger on.

And then I felt it, the hairs prickled on the back of my neck. I glanced sideways at Jilly—still humming. I didn't have to turn around to know the mother was watching us. It reminded me of being on the bus. The only difference…I knew I wasn't being paranoid this time.

Chapter 2

“W
hat do you mean you don't know their last name?” Mom asked. She had been watching us from the kitchen window and wanted a full report.

“Mom, we don't talk about stuff like that,” Jilly said.

“What's that supposed to mean? When you meet new people, don't you ask them their names?”

“Well, we got their
first
names. The kids are Megan and Sam,” I said.

“They're from Ottawa,” Jilly added.

“Oh, for the love of God, pass me my coffee cake pan,” Mom demanded, opening cupboards and slamming down baking ingredients.

“Mom, settle down. You're acting like we've disgraced the family name or something,” I said.

“Plus, the mother's a real piece of work.
Craaan
-
key
,” Jilly said. “She doesn't strike me as the coffee cake type. Did you see how skinny she was, Lid? She kind of reminds me of Mrs. Wilson, remember? We used to say she lived on her church communion wafer.”

I laughed. I did remember Mrs. Wilson. Grade six French. She was at least a hundred years old, and all of eighty pounds. I always felt nervous that she was going to drop dead in the middle of class. Our new neighbour could totally be her daughter. Well, maybe her granddaughter.

“Jilly's right, Mom, it might be a waste of chocolate chips.” I grabbed a handful out of the bag.

“Well, there
is
Sam and Megan…” Jilly passed Mom the eggs.

“Yeah, I guess.”

Jilly and I sat at the table, flipping through a pile of flyers as Mom whipped up her famous coffee cake. Soon the kitchen was filled with the smell of chocolate and cinnamon. In no time at all, the oven timer went off.

“I'm going to change and let that cool a bit,” Mom informed us. “Then I'm going to take it over and welcome them to the neighbourhood.” She sounded a little angry, like her having to bake a cake at the drop of a hat was somehow
our
fault.

“What's her problem?” Jilly asked.

“Didn't you hear the ‘if you want something done right, you better do it yourself ' tone in her voice?”

“Ohhh,” she nodded. “Gotcha.”

“You don't think we have to go with her, do you?”

Jilly pressed her lips together and squished them around, like she was reactivating her lip gloss. “I'll go. I wouldn't mind seeing Sam again.”

That helped me decide. “Yeah, I guess I'll go too.”

Mom reappeared, hair all neat, clothes free of flour. “Are you coming with me?”

“Yup,” we answered.

Once again we trekked across the street. The coffee cake led the parade.

Mom rang the bell. We waited.

The door opened. It was the scary mother.

“Welcome to the neighbourhood,” Mom said, holding out the cake.

The scary mother put her hand to her throat. “Oh my, I don't know what to say. How very lovely. Won't you come in?”

Jilly and I shot each other a look and followed Mom into the house.

“Sam! Megan!” the scary mother called. “Those
lovely
girls from across the street are here.”

I felt like I was in a parallel universe or something.

“I'm Justine, Justine Tanner,” Mom said.

“I'm Bernadette Swicker.” She reached out and took the cake.

Scary mother now had a name.

Sam and Megan arrived slightly out of breath. “Sorry, we were trying to get the TV working, but I don't think the cable's been hooked up yet,” Sam said.

I nodded sympathetically, hoping he would sense how much I shared his frustration. I happened to catch a glimpse of Jilly doing the exact same thing. I wanted to kick her.

“Shall I make some tea, Justine? And cut into this beautiful cake?” Mrs. Swicker asked.

“No, no, we're not going to impose, you're trying to get settled in. I hope it turned out though, it was a bit of a rush job. We didn't know you were coming.”

“Oh, I don't eat sweets, but I'm sure it's perfect.” Mrs. Swicker handed the cake to Megan.

I felt Jilly nudge me.

“Oh.” Mom seemed at a loss for words.

“Well, thank you for making us feel so welcome,” Mrs. Swicker smiled.

I noticed her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

“My pleasure. It's nice to have some new neighbours on the street.” Mom ushered us towards the door.

Jilly and I speed-walked home and impatiently waited for Mom. We practically pulled her in the door and both started talking at once.

“Stop!” Mom put up her hands. “I can't understand a word, but I'll start off by saying, I thought Mrs. Swicker seemed perfectly fine.”

“But Mom, she's not. And what about the not eating sweets thing?” Jilly sputtered.

“Well that doesn't make her a bad person. I thought she was quite friendly,” Mom said.

“Mom! She wasn't like that this morning. She was all
snippy
-like.”

“Lid's right, Mom, she was looking down her nose at us the whole time.”

“Let me tell you, she sure wasn't all rainbows and puppy dogs, like you just saw,” I said.

Mom sighed one of those giant mother-like sighs. “Girls, did it ever occur to you that she may have been tired, maybe she'd been driving for hours,
maybe
you didn't catch her at her best moment?”

A couple seconds of silence ticked by.

“I guess,” Jilly mumbled.

Mom turned to me for my response. She was trying to stare me down. “Lydia?”

“Anything's possible.” I knew it was just easier to give her the answer she wanted.

“Thank you both for being so open-minded,” Mom said. “We wouldn't want to jump to any wrong conclusions.”

She might as well have added, “would we, Lydia?” I knew that was what she was thinking.

I tilted my head, smiled sweetly, and took off to my room. With the door safely closed, I went to the window, opened it wide to let in some breeze, and stared across the street. I watched Megan walk to the van, lift out a suitcase, and head up the driveway. Sam met her halfway, took the case from her, and returned to the house.