go, saying something like “It’s hard to lose someone you love.” Her eyes got shiny with tears and she talked a bit about her husband, who had died ten years before. She said she still missed him every day. When she said that, I kind of wished we were still holding hands, but I didn’t know what to do about it.
That’s the only time we ever shared something personal. Normally we’d focus on the book, with me reading and her making little comments on the side.
I’ll never forget the way I felt when I came to the end of
Great Expectations
. It was like something important just up and walked out of my life. I felt depressed for a week. But I never went back to see Mrs. Ross again, because by then I was totally into Matthew. Sometimes I think about her and wonder if she’s still alive. I think about how I wouldn’t mind reading to her again someday. Before she’s gone for good.
I turn on my computer and stare at Matthew’s face, his dark, smiling eyes.
Matthew, there’s this Halloween party at Brad Wilson’s next weekend. He never invited me. But Morgan’s going and she says I should go too, because she heard Brad say that he’s fine with people bringing other friends if they want. So should I go? I just have this feeling that if I don’t hold on to this little lifeline that Morgan throws me once in a while, I’ll sink. But I’d have to wear a costume. Ugh. A white sheet, maybe?
9
I ’m in the back seat of Jack’s friend Jeremy’s car. Jack’s up front in the passenger seat. We’re driving to Brad’s house, for the big Halloween party that everyone in town seems to be planning to crash. This is my first social event in a long while. I wasn’t going to bother with it, partly because coming up with a costume seemed too stressful, but Jack talked me into it. He said he’d be there with a few of his grade twelve buddies and would keep an eye on me.
Not too many brothers are as nice as Jack. But the truth is, he also wants to keep an eye on Morgan. He’s got it bad for her, poor guy.
Jack’s dressed up as a zombie, with lots of white face paint, green around his eyes and mouth, and fake blood dripping from his ears and nose. He’s put red food colouring all over his tongue. Jeremy’s a vampire, with spiky bleached hair and a long black trench coat—like Spike from the old TV show
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
. I’m guessing three-quarters of the people at this party will be either zombies or vampires.
Me, I’ve got my costume in my lap. It’s a rubber Bob Marley mask that Joyce picked up in the city last week. It has a dreadlock wig attached. Bob Marley was a Jamaican reggae singer, and Joyce is a big fan. I think he died before I was born. I just looked at the mask and said, “Fine. Whatever.” It’s not great to breathe through, but I like the fact that no one will ever guess it’s me underneath. That’s what I’m counting on.
We pull onto Brad’s street. The house is a three-storey Victorian on a corner property near the river. I’ve heard that his parents won’t be home, and there are already lots of cars parked in the driveway and along the road in front. There’s a big scarecrow sitting on the front porch, made of clothing stuffed with straw and topped with a carved pumpkin head. Another carved pumpkin, lit from the inside by a candle, has been placed near the front door on a bar stool. Fake cobwebs hang from the porch roof.
As Jeremy parks the car, I take a deep breath and put on my mask. I’m trying to screw up the courage just to get out of the car. There’s cackling witch laughter coming from a recorder somewhere in the garden as we walk up the driveway. I can’t see much out of this mask.
Matthew, what am I doing here?
We’re greeted by a bottleneck at the entrance: vampires and zombies are jamming the front hallway. The lights are low, the music is loud and someone in a platinum-blonde wig and stiletto heels is sitting on the floor, where she’s apparently fallen,
That’s the only time we ever shared something personal. Normally we’d focus on the book, with me reading and her making little comments on the side.
I’ll never forget the way I felt when I came to the end of
Great Expectations
. It was like something important just up and walked out of my life. I felt depressed for a week. But I never went back to see Mrs. Ross again, because by then I was totally into Matthew. Sometimes I think about her and wonder if she’s still alive. I think about how I wouldn’t mind reading to her again someday. Before she’s gone for good.
I turn on my computer and stare at Matthew’s face, his dark, smiling eyes.
Matthew, there’s this Halloween party at Brad Wilson’s next weekend. He never invited me. But Morgan’s going and she says I should go too, because she heard Brad say that he’s fine with people bringing other friends if they want. So should I go? I just have this feeling that if I don’t hold on to this little lifeline that Morgan throws me once in a while, I’ll sink. But I’d have to wear a costume. Ugh. A white sheet, maybe?
9
I ’m in the back seat of Jack’s friend Jeremy’s car. Jack’s up front in the passenger seat. We’re driving to Brad’s house, for the big Halloween party that everyone in town seems to be planning to crash. This is my first social event in a long while. I wasn’t going to bother with it, partly because coming up with a costume seemed too stressful, but Jack talked me into it. He said he’d be there with a few of his grade twelve buddies and would keep an eye on me.
Not too many brothers are as nice as Jack. But the truth is, he also wants to keep an eye on Morgan. He’s got it bad for her, poor guy.
Jack’s dressed up as a zombie, with lots of white face paint, green around his eyes and mouth, and fake blood dripping from his ears and nose. He’s put red food colouring all over his tongue. Jeremy’s a vampire, with spiky bleached hair and a long black trench coat—like Spike from the old TV show
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
. I’m guessing three-quarters of the people at this party will be either zombies or vampires.
Me, I’ve got my costume in my lap. It’s a rubber Bob Marley mask that Joyce picked up in the city last week. It has a dreadlock wig attached. Bob Marley was a Jamaican reggae singer, and Joyce is a big fan. I think he died before I was born. I just looked at the mask and said, “Fine. Whatever.” It’s not great to breathe through, but I like the fact that no one will ever guess it’s me underneath. That’s what I’m counting on.
We pull onto Brad’s street. The house is a three-storey Victorian on a corner property near the river. I’ve heard that his parents won’t be home, and there are already lots of cars parked in the driveway and along the road in front. There’s a big scarecrow sitting on the front porch, made of clothing stuffed with straw and topped with a carved pumpkin head. Another carved pumpkin, lit from the inside by a candle, has been placed near the front door on a bar stool. Fake cobwebs hang from the porch roof.
As Jeremy parks the car, I take a deep breath and put on my mask. I’m trying to screw up the courage just to get out of the car. There’s cackling witch laughter coming from a recorder somewhere in the garden as we walk up the driveway. I can’t see much out of this mask.
Matthew, what am I doing here?
We’re greeted by a bottleneck at the entrance: vampires and zombies are jamming the front hallway. The lights are low, the music is loud and someone in a platinum-blonde wig and stiletto heels is sitting on the floor, where she’s apparently fallen,
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