Rachel Bird Read online

  “What does that mean?” she says without looking up.

  “It means she really wants to be a doctor here in Canada, like she was in Poland. But the government won’t let her. Even though she’s married to me, and I’m a Canadian citizen.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s just the rules. But it’s very frustrating.”

  “Are you going to go back to Poland?” Jane glances up now. Her mouth is circled in blue and there’s chocolate on her chin.

  “No. That’s not an option. Not…now.”

  “That’s because you have to look after me and Rachel.”

  “Well, yes. And your grandparents need me too. It was just time for me to come home.”

  I decide to enter this conversation. “So, Aleksandra’s under a lot of stress and…what?”

  “I talked to your grandmother last night and she thinks…we think it would be a good idea for you to go to Aspen Lake for a while.” Uncle Rob caves in the sides of his coffee cup and tosses it on the table. “Actually, for the summer.”

  “You mean Margaret who phones us every Sunday?” says Jane.

  “Yes. Your grandmother.”

  Uncle Rob discussed possible names with us last December. Did we like Grandma and Grandpa, Granny and Grandad? I suggested Pops and Bunny. Jane was in agony trying to decide.

  At the end, it didn’t matter. The tall pale woman with a gray braid who came up to us at the funeral home said, “Hello. You must be Rachel and Jane. I’m Margaret. Wayne isn’t well enough to come but he sends his love.”

  Can’t get more definite than that.

  Uncle Rob goes to Aspen Lake all the time. He often drives there on a Friday night and comes back late Sunday. He’s always tired and irritable when he gets home and he’s never suggested taking us. And he never talks about what he does there.

  “Your grandparents are very keen for you to come for a visit,” he says. “They want to get to know you. You’ll love it. You’ll be staying in the same house where your mom and Uncle Jimmy and I grew up. It’s a real ranch. There’s horses and a lake to swim in. It’ll be fantastic.”

  I know how this works. We all bond and live happily ever after.

  Jane studies my face.

  “I actually prefer sidewalks,” I say. “And lampposts. And…um, let’s see. Oh yeah. Traffic lights.”

  Jane frowns. Then she turns to Uncle Rob. “Okay. I’ll go.”

  “You’re a trooper. Rachel?”

  I look away and spot Jason through the window, waiting to cross the street. He’s holding a skateboard and he’s not with his usual group. If he turns left, that’ll put him on a direct route to the Marble Slab Creamery.

  I jump up. “Gotta go.”

  “Now?” says Uncle Rob. “Where?”

  “I’ll be home by my curfew. And thanks for the ice cream.”

  * * *

  “Hey! Rachel!”

  “Oh! Hey.”

  “Where are you going so fast?” Jason asks.

  “Nowhere. Just walking around.”

  “I’ll walk around with you.”

  We head into the park and start along the path around Lost Lagoon. “One more week of torture,” says Jason. “It’s pointless even going to school right now. You gonna be around this summer?”

  “Yeah. Should be.” Not the time to tell him the Aspen Lake story. Not until I figure it out. “You?”

  “Yup. I’ll be hanging out at the beach or the skateboard park. And I might help our neighbor. He’s doing some renos in his apartment and said he’ll pay me eighteen bucks an hour.”

  “That’s not bad.”

  “New iPhone! Come to me, baby!” He soccer dribbles a rock along the path, then kicks it into the lagoon. “What about you?”

  “Beach.”

  “Nice.”

  We stop at a marshy spot and watch ducks swimming around in the reeds and bobbing their heads underwater.

  “My Nana comes here every day and feeds them bread,” says Jason. “It’s like they know her now. It’s crazy.” He points. “See that big duck over there with the green head? That’s Donald. And his little brown wife is Daisy.”

  I laugh.

  “We’re still working on the other names.”

  “Your Nana sounds nice,” I say.

  “Yup, she is.”

  All I know about my grandmother is she wants to be called Margaret. A tiny pause, then Jason says, “I’m living with her now.”

  “I live with my uncle and his wife,” I say.

  “And your little sister?”

  “Yeah. Jane.”

  “She’s cute.”

  That’s it. End of questions. Jason’s perfect for me.

  By the time we’ve circled back to the seawall, the sun has almost disappeared and the freighters have turned on their night lights. Jason’s told me all the features on the new iPhone and we’ve discussed all the best series on Netflix.

  I’d like to wander around all night just talking. But it’s a school night and Uncle Rob freaks if I’m late.

  “I better go.”

  Jason flicks his hair back. “Curfew?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That sucks. See you around?”

  I sure hope so.

  “See you,” I say.

  A huge crow stares down at me from the branches of a tree on Haro Street. I read online that people in the West End carry umbrellas because the crows are getting so aggressive and dive-bomb them. I think it’s because someone fed them too many peanuts. Or something like that.

  This crow looks sleepy. I run anyway. Not because of the crow. Not because I’m twenty minutes past my curfew.

  Because I want to.

  * * *

  Chapter Four

  “I knew you’d come around,” says Uncle Rob.

  He thinks I caved. Not true. It’s just that Jane wants to go to Aspen Lake so badly (“Please, please, please, Rachel!”) and I’m sick of the way Aleksandra treats her, like she’s an annoying mosquito to bat away. I’ve come up with a plan. You have to take a bus to get there, so I’ll go with Jane and stay just long enough to make sure she’s safe. Then I’ll zip back to Vancouver and Second Beach and Jason.

  There’s one blip in the plan—that’s the part when I picture myself actually saying good-bye to Jane. We’ve never been apart. But I can’t look after her for the rest of my life, either.

  “What?” says Jason. “You’re going, like, eight hours on a bus?”

  This is our third time at the beach. He says he hasn’t ditched the others, he’s just taking a break. I’m stretched out on a towel, face down. He’s making little piles of burning sand on my bare back. I’ve smeared on sunscreen and the sand is going to stick, but it feels incredible.

  “So where is this place?” he says.

  “I don’t know exactly,” I mumble into my towel. “The nearest town is called One Hundred Mile House. That’s where the bus goes.”

  “One Hundred Mile House? That’s the name of a town?”

  “I know. It’s weird.”

  “It’s insane.”

  I stand up, brushing off loose sand. I’m suddenly feeling seriously queasy. Major mistake eating that chili dog that Jason insisted on buying. I never eat meat you can’t identify. “Let’s walk,” I say.

  I love English Bay. There are people everywhere; at tables outside restaurants, jogging, eating ice cream, holding hands. We stop at the A-maze-ing Laughter sculptures at the corner of Denman and Davie. It’s one of Jane’s favorite places. It’s this group of huge bronze men in different positions, laughing like they’re all in on some secret joke. It makes you smile just to look at them. Usually tourists are taking selfies, but right now it’s quiet.

  “I call these guys Mr. Happy,” says Jason.

  “They’ve
all got the same name?”

  “Yup. They’re brothers.”

  I touch the smooth arm of the Mr. Happy in front of me. His mouth is stretched wide in a grin, his eyes all squinty.

  “Let’s go,” says Jason.

  We’re planning on playing mini golf.

  “One sec.”

  “Hey, Mr. Happy,” I whisper. “What’s your carapace?”

  * * *

  Jane’s at the dentist so I head to the library on my own. I’m going to have to carry the books in my backpack on the bus so I’m rationing myself to three. The Shadow Queen by CJ Redwine. The Shadow Soul by Kaitlyn Davis. Shadowshaper by Daniel José Older.

  I can read them in under a week, but I’ve got two weeks before they’re overdue. I’ll be back by then. On my way to the checkout desk, I pass the two little rooms with tables and chairs where you can shut the door and read or study with no one bugging you. It’s not completely private because there’s glass along the front. The first room’s empty, but a guy with dark hair is hunched over the table in the second room, reading.

  I open the door and plunk down in the chair opposite him. “Hi, Jason.”

  “Hey, Rach.”

  There’s a stack of books on the table. Jason’s been taking notes on a pad of yellow paper but he puts his pen down.

  “Keep working,” I say.

  I pick up each book and examine the title. The Night Sky, The Mystery of the Universe, Planisphere. Nightwatch. The book in front of Jason is open to a double-spread of star charts. He scribbles a few more notes, then tips his chair back and says, “I’m done.”

  “So why do you do it?” I say.

  “I dunno. I like knowing stuff about space.”

  “I mean, why do you sit at the back of the class with all the stupid kids?”

  He flushes.

  I could kick myself.

  “That was a shitty thing to say,” he says.

  “Sorry.”

  He shrugs. “Coming to a new school at the end of the year, it was easier to sit at the back and be invisible. And Caitlin and those guys, they’re friendly. They’re okay. I like them.”

  Like I should talk. At least he’s made friends.

  “Let’s go get something to eat,” he says.

  He puts Planisphere in his backpack and leaves the others in a neat stack on the table.

  You never see stars like that in Vancouver.

  “You realize that all these pictures are photoshopped,” I say.

  Chapter Five

  Uncle Rob and Aleksandra are arguing about the bus. We’ve just finished a platter of sushi on the balcony overlooking Stanley Park. They’re still out there with their coffee, and Jane and I are inside reading. Jane’s lying on her back in the middle of the living room floor, holding her book over her face. I’ve positioned myself in a chair near the balcony door so I can keep track of their plans.

  “I’ve got six interviews next week because we’re hiring all new staff,” says Uncle Rob. “I want to wait until I can drive them up to Aspen Lake myself.”

  Uncle Rob was managing the Sheridan Hotel in Warsaw in Poland. That’s where he met Aleksandra. He transferred to the Sheridan in Vancouver and lately he’s been super busy.

  “You’ve taken too much time off already running back and forth to Aspen Lake,” says Aleksandra. “For God’s sake, your mother’s going to meet them. Rachel’s fifteen and Jane’s not a baby.” She’s ticking off her points in her head. “They can sit near the driver, and they don’t even need to get off the bus when it makes a stop. I’ll pack them a lunch.”

  “It takes eight hours,” says Uncle Rob. “They’ll want to get off. I’m not comfortable with that. A lot of sketchy people hang around bus depots.”

  “We’ll tell Rachel not to take her eyes off Jane for even a second.”

  “I should be there when they meet Dad,” persists Uncle Rob. “With everything’s that happened…I should never have stayed in Poland so long.”

  “Now you’re blaming me?” says Aleksandra.

  “Of course not. But every time I go to Aspen Lake, I get more worried.”

  “Your father just lost his son in August. He lost Layla years ago, and he’s not well. What do you expect? Don’t do this to me, Rob.”

  I’ve been collecting information about our instant family since December. This is what I have so far: Jane and I have grandparents (Margaret and Wayne Bird) who, it turns out, are not dead. They’re alive and well and living on a ranch in Aspen Lake. My mother had a brother, Rob, who is also not dead. He’s been living in Poland for the past eighteen years, but he came back to Vancouver to rescue me and Jane. My mother had another brother, Jimmy, who is dead.

  All I know about him is that he had an accident with his hunting rifle. I don’t need the details.

  Aleksandra and Uncle Rob switch to Polish, which is extremely annoying. I turn back to my book, but I make a mental note to tell Uncle Rob to drop it. Does he seriously think I need a babysitter?

  And as for Jane, except for that one time, haven’t I kept her safe her whole life?

  * * *

  The night before we leave, Jason and I walk along the seawall as far as Siwash Rock holding hands. I drag him over to one of Jane’s memorial benches.

  I read the saying on the back of the bench out loud. “You cannot leave a place you’ve never been to.”

  “O-kay,” says Jason.

  “I haven’t been able to figure this one out,” I say. “The significance, I mean.”

  “Me neither,” says Jason.

  I laugh. “Yeah, right. Like you’ve tried.”

  “Hey, that hurts.” Jason sits on the bench and pulls me down beside him. We compare legs. His are brown, mine are white. His are hairy, mine have little red dots on them from shaving too fast.

  “Rachel?”

  I’m ready. Our first kiss is over fast, but I like it, even though the whole time I’m praying I’m not blushing.

  “I figured out what that saying means,” he says. “It means you shouldn’t go away to wherever it is that you’re going.”

  Jason thinks my plan to come back to Vancouver has some holes. I’ve agreed that I need to work on it more.

  “But I’m coming back for sure,” I say.

  I still haven’t asked him why he lives with his grandmother. Or why he wants to be invisible. He’s never asked what happened to Jane’s arm. He’s never asked what happened to our mother.

  It’s so much better that way.

  Chapter Six

  As the bus winds its way up the Fraser Canyon, Jane’s glued to the window. I can’t look. This highway is seriously scary. There’s a sheer drop off to the river on one side and a wall of rock on the other. I hope this bus driver is over-qualified and has at least twenty years of experience.

  We’re careening around corners and Bam! It’s pitch black. Then back into daylight.

  “What was that?” says Jane.

  I crane my neck backwards. “A tunnel.”

  Each time we enter another tunnel, it’s like we’re belting straight into the side of the mountain. Jane adores it. When the highway finally straightens out, she announces, “That’s seven tunnels.”

  “Well done.” The woman across the aisle beams at her. “Very good counting.”

  Jane can probably count to infinity, but I don’t point this out.

  The woman’s name is Doris. She’s wearing a blue tracksuit and orange sneakers. She introduced herself when she got on the bus, struggling with a big basket and three shopping bags, at a town called Hope.

  Hope! That’s really what it’s called. When I come back in my next life, I’m going to live in a place called Hope.

  Doris reaches over now with an open bag of Licorice Allsorts. “No, thanks,” I say, but Jane hunts around for the little round pink o
nes.

  “You girls are adventurous to be traveling by yourselves,” says Doris.

  “We’re going to stay with our grandparents,” says Jane. “Our grandmother is Margaret and our grandfather is Wayne.”

  “Well, that sounds nice,” says Doris.

  “We saw Margaret once, but we’ve never even seen Wayne.”

  Doris sits up straighter. “Now that’s interesting. Why—?”

  “We didn’t even know about Margaret and Wayne before.”

  “Well now, what do—?”

  “And,” Jane finishes, “Rachel has a boyfriend.”

  Jane’s out of control.

  I pull a word search book and a pen out of our backpack and shove them in front of her. She gets busy right away circling the capital cities of the world. Doris sighs and pulls out some knitting that just might be a purple sock.

  We’re passing miles and miles of forest with scattered houses and buildings and swampy looking ponds. Shit. Can I really leave Jane here?

  My eyes keep shutting, and I let myself drift.

  I wake up with a crick in my neck and gritty eyes. I check my watch. Less than an hour left. Both Jane and Doris are asleep now. Jane’s crooked and her face is mushed against the window. I fold up my sweatshirt and slide it under her shoulder to prop her up.

  I think about Jason. Is he my friend or is he my boyfriend? Do I want him to be my boyfriend? I sigh. This is too hard.

  So, I think about what I saw last night. I got up at midnight to get a banana (the magnesium in bananas makes you sleepy, if you believe GoToSleep.com) and I ate it at the table where I’d left my laptop. I went back to my room to get the sunglasses Aura gave me (who knew there was an evil thing called blue light?), then googled Celtic knots for my future tattoo, found some images that looked interesting, and pressed print.

  The printer, on a desk in the corner of the living room, banged and thumped. I remembered Aleksandra swearing after dinner because it had jammed up again. I was frantically trying to figure out how to hit cancel before I woke everyone up when there was a final choking gasp. I grabbed the edge of a creased paper and yanked it out, smoothing it flat. It was a letter written in Polish.