Shadow Girl (16 page)

“Where’s your family from, Jules?”

“Canada.”

“Of course, but which country before Canada?”

“I don’t know.”

Laughter.

“Doherty is an Irish name. Did your father’s family come from Ireland?”

“I don’t know.”

“How about your mother?”

“I don’t know.”

Laughter floated up at Jules, hitting her like Sister’s jabs, punches, and slaps.

I need some relief. And if nobody’s going to give it to me, I’m going to get it myself
.

Jules pretended to go to school one day, but didn’t.

She knew how to get to the Kingsway on her own. And by asking bus drivers, she found out how to get as far as Mimico. She got off the bus just past the Queensway, walked up and down Royal York, going in and out of stores, then along some of the side streets. She didn’t expect to see her dad or Tracie.

The city felt weird, like a world children weren’t supposed to be a part of – a parallel universe carrying on when kids were all at school.

When she got tired, Jules took the bus back to Bloor and walked to the Brentwood Library in the Kingsway, eating her lunch along the way. Only old people and mothers with really young kids were there. Some of the librarians gave her a look that meant she shouldn’t be there.

She picked a book –
The Secret Garden
– found a cozy corner near a window, and read in peace.

After a few chapters, she closed the book and
looked outside at the people walking by. Time seemed to be moving at a different pace out there.

How am I going to get through all the years of being a kid and getting pushed around? How am I going to make it?

By the time Jules got back, Mrs. Chapman was almost frothing at the mouth. “Never in all my years of being a foster parent has this happened to me!”

The school had called, and Mrs. Chapman had been made to look stupid in front of Sister Martha Jane – and Suzanne – for not knowing where Jules had gone.

Hurray!

Mrs. Chapman wanted other people to think she was holy and good. But she was just going through the motions.

Jules stared at the vein in Mrs. Chapman’s forehead. It looked like it was going to burst. When Mr. Chapman came home, he joined in the lecturing. Veronica and Marilyn found excuses to be in the kitchen so they could be part of the peanut gallery.

Jules was silent.

“This will never happen again! You’re not getting me into trouble with Children’s Aid – I can tell you that much!”

“And it’s against the law to skip school, in case you didn’t know,” Mr. Chapman added.

Leave it to grown-ups to make laws to punish the punished
.

“I don’t know what’s the matter with you lately,” Mrs. Chapman continued. “You’re short-tempered, you fight with the girls, you take off so you don’t have to do chores, and you lock yourself in your room. Do you think you can just do what you want – like you’re someone special? Sister says you’re one of the worst students in the class, that you never do homework … never do assignments.”

Jules stared at the pattern in Mrs. Chapman’s purple and green housedress.

“Listen to me, Jules. Pay attention! You’ve got high school next year, and if you don’t work hard, you’ll end up –” She didn’t have to finish the sentence.

Jules looked around at their faces.

Go ahead. Keep thinking I’m weak or stupid or a loser. You’re wrong. It took guts to do what I did today. And it was worth it. The air felt different, good to breathe, and I was free
.

Jules skipped another day of school the following week, then two the week after that. It was hard to stop.

T
here’d been no visit from her dad in September, though Jules and her dad kept phoning each other.

No visit in October.

He showed up in early November. Sleet stung their faces as Jules clung to him at the Chapmans’ front door.

“Hey, hey. What’s this?”

She couldn’t speak.

“C’mon, Jules, what’s wrong?”

Mrs. Chapman’s face went red. They were making a scene in front of her neighbors. “People’ll start gawking, Jules, and wonder what the drama’s all about.”

Her dad pretended to laugh, but Jules could tell he didn’t think any part of it was funny.

“Where were you, Dad? I couldn’t get you on the phone. Don’t you want to see me anymore?”

“Come in, Jules, for heaven’s sake! The weather’s too awful to be standing outside.” Mrs. Chapman gave them an angry “you people” kind of look as she practically pulled them through the doorway. “Jules, it’s okay. You’re going to have a nice visit,” she said flatly. “Just go into the living room and be with your father there. It’s been a while, I guess.” Mrs. Chapman turned to look at Jules’s father, then moved quickly away from him. “Well, I’ll make some coffee.”

Jules’s dad walked awkwardly into the living room – Jules was still holding on to him.

“C’mon, Jules. Let go, for Christ’s sake!” He smelled of cigarettes and alcohol. His face was pinched with the cold.

They sat in their usual spots on the couch.

“Why didn’t you come?”

“I wanted to.”

No, you didn’t!

“But why not?”

Anger, guilt, sadness moved like shadows across his face.

“I’ve been in this place almost a year. A year, Dad. It’s like prison. I can’t take it!” she yelled.

“ ‘Prison’? Bloody hell.” He edged farther away from her on the sofa. “You know something? You’re getting to be a spoiled little brat. An ungrateful little brat. Look at you! You’re warm, clean, got a roof over your head, no worries. I’d give anything to be in your place.”

“But –”

“Shut up about it or I’m leaving. You don’t understand.”

No, I don’t
.

“Things are tough right now.”

When aren’t they?

“Where’s Tracie?”

“Working.”

Mrs. Chapman brought in the coffee.

Jules and her dad sat in silence as Mrs. Chapman set the tray down and left the room. Jules remembered the times they used to drink coffee or tea just to keep warm in their old house.

Beaten down and used up. That’s how he looks
.

“C’mon, Jules,” he said, almost like a kid. “It’s such a rotten day out there, let’s cheer ourselves up and talk about something else. Before you know it, it’ll be Christmas, your favorite time of year. Let’s talk about that. What we’ll do – you, me, and Tracie? What do you want me to get you for for Christmas?”

It doesn’t matter what I want. You never get it
.

But Jules decided to try and be in a better mood to please him. “A Beatles record.”

“The Beatles? Those hairy creeps?” he said, laughing.

“Dad?”

“Hmm?”

“Christmas’ll be wonderful together.”

“J
ules Doherty – one.”

Jules couldn’t help but smile as Sister Martha Jane looked at her with disgust. She walked up to the front of the class and collected her box of doughnuts.

Every year, the kids at school had to sell chocolates, raffle tickets, or something else to raise money for supplies or equipment nobody ever saw once the money came in. Doughnuts were the moneymaker that year. Every kid had to go door to door in their neighborhood, signing people up for as many boxes as they could.

Sister finished reading out the names of students and their doughnut counts. She wanted her class to sell the most and kept saying they had to set a good example for the rest of the school.

Hah! I couldn’t care less. The only thing I want to do is eat as many of those doughnuts as I can before giving the box to Mrs. Chapman
.

Mrs. Chapman had sprung for only a dozen – and complained about having to do that much.

They were dismissed early to trudge through the streets with their deliveries. Jules first walked to the Grade 1 classroom, at the far end of the school, because she’d promised to help Katie.

Katie’s class was empty, so Jules went outside to look for her. Kids were streaming out of school, heading off in all directions, but a small crowd was standing in a circle just beyond the back exit doors, almost out of sight. When Jules got close enough, she could see that Katie was in the middle, looking frightened. The bully from her old class, Jerry Chambers, was standing over Katie and passing around an open box of doughnuts. Another box lay on the ground.

Jules pushed herself through the circle, snatched the box from Jerry, and handed it to Katie.

“Give it back, foster girl.”

Laughter.

“Make me.”

Jules rarely got into fights. When Jerry or another bully picked on her, especially when they teased her about being in foster care, she’d turn herself off and try to feel nothing.

Maybe they think I’m a coward
.

Jerry was the kind of bully who acted like a goody-two-shoes in front of teachers and played
mean tricks on kids behind their backs.

Katie bent down awkwardly to pick up the box on the ground. Jerry made a move to kick it away. Jules jabbed him in the ribs as hard as she could. He lost his balance and fell to the ground.

More laughter.

Jerry got back on his feet and came at Jules. She quickly dropped her schoolbag and box of doughnuts to the pavement. With both arms out, Jules rushed toward him and pushed him hard, knocking him down again.

He looked up at her as if he’d never seen her before. Getting up slowly, he turned to face the school. “I hear Crazy Jane. We’d better split.”

Sister Martha Jane’s name was enough to send everybody running.

“What am I gonna do?” Katie wailed. A large tear rolled down her cheek.

Jules picked up her own box of doughnuts. “Take mine, Katie. Your other box is okay.” She opened it to show her. “See? The cardboard’s crunched up a bit, but the doughnuts are fine.”

“But you’ll be in trouble.”

“Nah. My doughnuts were just for me.”

“All of ’em?”

“Yeah,” Jules lied.

“I’ll pay you back.”

“No, Katie. Forget it.”

Jeff and John came out of the school then, deep in conversation, and joined Jules and Katie. They
were weighed down with their own boxes and schoolbags.

“A mean, rotten, lousy big kid grabbed a box of my doughnuts,” Katie said excitedly. “And Jules beat him up!”

“It didn’t happen quite like that. C’mon, you guys. If Sister does come out,
we’ll
be the ones in trouble.”

“Jules, Jules,” Katie shrieked as she spotted her in the school lineup the next morning. “A letter from Mom.”

“A what?”

Katie pushed an envelope at Jules just as the bell rang. “See you at recess!”

Jules stuffed the envelope in her schoolbag. She didn’t dare open it in class – Sister might take it. Jules waited until lunchtime.

“Thank you so much for what you did, Jules. Katie looked up to you before. You’re her hero now. Mine, too. Sophie Adamson.”

Scotch-taped to the note was money for a dozen doughnuts.

Jules went to bed that night, her heart aglow.

D
ecember 9. Wednesday.

“Remember, Jules,” said Mrs. Chapman, “Suzanne’s coming after school. Make sure you’re here by four o’clock.”

Argh
.

Jules dragged herself home. Her report card had been a disaster. She was in for it now.

It would’ve been easier to face the sermon if Eileen was giving it. Jules didn’t like Suzanne. She was short, with a square body, square head, square face, and sour expression. She talked down to Jules – or around her to Mrs. Chapman. She always acted as if whatever Sister Martha Jane or Mrs. Chapman said mattered most. So Jules didn’t say anything to Suzanne if she could help it. Suzanne wasn’t on her side.

“Hi, Jules,” Mrs. Chapman called out cheerfully when Jules came into the house.

Suzanne must be here
.

She put her things away and went to the kitchen.

“How are you, Jules?”

I know you don’t care, Suzanne
.

“Okay.”

“How’s school?”

Sister beat up a bunch of us today. My hands and arms are still sore, stinging. In a real rage, she was
.

“Okay.”

“Jules, are you hungry? Do you want a snack?” Mrs. Chapman asked in her fake voice.

“No.”

“How about you, Suzanne? Would you like some coffee? And cookies, maybe?”

Suzanne smiled. “Yes, that’ll be nice.”

Jules could tell she liked being waited on and made to feel important. Mrs. Chapman was good at that.

Suzanne asked a few more idiotic questions about how Jules was doing. Jules sat and stared at her or mumbled non-answers. She was getting to be an expert at answering questions without actually saying anything. It didn’t take long before Suzanne was good and frustrated.

When Mrs. Chapman served the coffee, Suzanne took some time to add cream and sugar, comment on the cookies, and make small talk about Christmas. Then she sighed, took a few sips, put her mug
down, helped herself to a cookie, looked in her briefcase, brought out a file of papers, and started reading them.

“I’ve got something to tell you, Jules. Your father, your dad … um, there was a court date in early November.”

Stupid court
.

“He didn’t show up. Even before that, we tried to contact him. You had a scheduled visit … um …” Suzanne kept looking through her papers. “Your visits are for once a week.…”

No, Dad. No
.

Suzanne shifted papers in her file, reading parts of them to herself, putting others aside. She didn’t look at Jules once.

“Did he say anything about going somewhere, getting a new place, when you had your last visit?”
Dad. Oh, Dad
.

“When was the last time – oh, here it is. You saw him in November, just over a month ago.” Suzanne chewed on her cookie as she spoke, slowly raising her sour eyes to Jules. “And over the summer, just one visit.”

Help me
.

“We haven’t been able to reach him for some time, Jules. We don’t know where he is.” Suzanne put the papers down. She spoke slowly and deliberately as she delivered the smack-down punch. “I’ve been to Tracie’s. She’s gone, too, I’m afraid. Left her rooming house. No one’s sure when. They
didn’t give notice. We’ve gone to your dad’s last place of work, asked everybody who knew them, but … it seems as if he’s left the city.”