Brendan? You all right?”
Brendan had been sitting looking at a poster in the nearby bus shelter, his pizza drooping in his hand. “Hmm?”
Harold waved a hand in front of Brendan’s face. “Earth calling Brendan!”
Brendan raised his head and looked at his friends. “What?” he said dumbly.
“Have you established a psychic link with the alien spaceship yet?” Harold asked sarcastically.
“Very funny,” Brendan said. “I was just looking at that poster. You ever heard of her?”
They all looked at the poster. In ornate Celtic script the title read “Deirdre D’Anaan: One Night Only at Convocation Hall.”
“My mum’s going to that,” Harold said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “She’s a folk singer or something.”
“Pretty,” Dmitri said.
Brendan stared at the picture of the woman. The entire poster was her face. She was beautiful but in a very intimidating way with piercing grey eyes and a haughty expression. Her hair spread out in a red, tangled mass about her head. The artist had manipulated the image so that her hair melded with a border of green vines and wildflowers. The eyes seemed to peer right into Brendan’s heart they were so alive.
“That’s a cool picture,” he said and turned to look at Kim. She was sitting stock-still, her pizza forgotten. She stared at the poster with a fevered intensity bordering on fury.
“Kim? Are you all right?”
Kim blinked. She realized they were all staring at her. “Huh? Yeah. I’m fine. Fine.”
Dmitri tossed his napkin into the garbage bin and picked up his books. “I have to go. My mother gets worried if I don’t head straight home. Are you taking the subway, Harold?”
Harold nodded.
Brendan watched Kim as she stuffed the last piece of her pizza into her mouth. She was acting so weird today. He decided to push his luck. “That Mr. Greenleaf is pretty strange,” Brendan said. “I don’t know what to think of him. He’s kind of … spooky. Do you know him from somewhere, Kim?”
Kim stopped in the act of putting on her silver helmet. “What do ya mean?”
“It just looked like you knew him in class,” Brendan said.
“Huh,” she jammed the helmet onto her head and did up the strap. “At my old school. He subbed there once. That’s all.” She fell silent, making it obvious she wasn’t going to elaborate.
“I don’t know,” Harold said, gathering up his drawing materials and stuffing them into his knapsack. “Anything’s better than old Bowel-ly.”
“Millionaire Bowel-ly,” Dmitri corrected. “He’s won the lottery now.”
“That’s so amazing,” Brendan said. “Do you think it’s true?”
Kim straddled her scooter. “I wouldn’t trust anything that guy said. You shouldn’t either.” She kicked the pedal and the engine roared to life. Without another word she sped off west along Harbord.
They watched her go.
“What’s up her butt?” Harold asked.
“No idea,” Brendan said. “I think it’s something to do with the new substitute teacher.”
“Greenleaf?” Dmitri said. “You think so?”
“Yeah. I think he’s kind of odd, too. Don’t you?”
“No weirder than any other teacher.” Harold shrugged. “Let’s go, D. See ya, Brendan.” He headed off north toward the subway station, pulling his sketchbook out as he went.
Brendan frowned. “There’s something about him that’s … I don’t know. Familiar.”
“You’ve met him before?” Dmitri asked.
“That’s just the thing. I’m sure I haven’t but as soon as I saw him, I felt something. It’s like some part of me should know him or recognize who he is. Does that make any sense to you?”
Dmitri looked at Brendan and said finally, “Uh-uh.”
Brendan’s shoulders sagged. “Me neither. Ow.” His hand gripped his chest.
“What’s wrong?” Dmitri asked.
“Nothing,” Brendan tugged the collar of his T-shirt down to expose the left side of his chest. “I’ve had this scar since I was a baby and it’s been
Brendan had been sitting looking at a poster in the nearby bus shelter, his pizza drooping in his hand. “Hmm?”
Harold waved a hand in front of Brendan’s face. “Earth calling Brendan!”
Brendan raised his head and looked at his friends. “What?” he said dumbly.
“Have you established a psychic link with the alien spaceship yet?” Harold asked sarcastically.
“Very funny,” Brendan said. “I was just looking at that poster. You ever heard of her?”
They all looked at the poster. In ornate Celtic script the title read “Deirdre D’Anaan: One Night Only at Convocation Hall.”
“My mum’s going to that,” Harold said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “She’s a folk singer or something.”
“Pretty,” Dmitri said.
Brendan stared at the picture of the woman. The entire poster was her face. She was beautiful but in a very intimidating way with piercing grey eyes and a haughty expression. Her hair spread out in a red, tangled mass about her head. The artist had manipulated the image so that her hair melded with a border of green vines and wildflowers. The eyes seemed to peer right into Brendan’s heart they were so alive.
“That’s a cool picture,” he said and turned to look at Kim. She was sitting stock-still, her pizza forgotten. She stared at the poster with a fevered intensity bordering on fury.
“Kim? Are you all right?”
Kim blinked. She realized they were all staring at her. “Huh? Yeah. I’m fine. Fine.”
Dmitri tossed his napkin into the garbage bin and picked up his books. “I have to go. My mother gets worried if I don’t head straight home. Are you taking the subway, Harold?”
Harold nodded.
Brendan watched Kim as she stuffed the last piece of her pizza into her mouth. She was acting so weird today. He decided to push his luck. “That Mr. Greenleaf is pretty strange,” Brendan said. “I don’t know what to think of him. He’s kind of … spooky. Do you know him from somewhere, Kim?”
Kim stopped in the act of putting on her silver helmet. “What do ya mean?”
“It just looked like you knew him in class,” Brendan said.
“Huh,” she jammed the helmet onto her head and did up the strap. “At my old school. He subbed there once. That’s all.” She fell silent, making it obvious she wasn’t going to elaborate.
“I don’t know,” Harold said, gathering up his drawing materials and stuffing them into his knapsack. “Anything’s better than old Bowel-ly.”
“Millionaire Bowel-ly,” Dmitri corrected. “He’s won the lottery now.”
“That’s so amazing,” Brendan said. “Do you think it’s true?”
Kim straddled her scooter. “I wouldn’t trust anything that guy said. You shouldn’t either.” She kicked the pedal and the engine roared to life. Without another word she sped off west along Harbord.
They watched her go.
“What’s up her butt?” Harold asked.
“No idea,” Brendan said. “I think it’s something to do with the new substitute teacher.”
“Greenleaf?” Dmitri said. “You think so?”
“Yeah. I think he’s kind of odd, too. Don’t you?”
“No weirder than any other teacher.” Harold shrugged. “Let’s go, D. See ya, Brendan.” He headed off north toward the subway station, pulling his sketchbook out as he went.
Brendan frowned. “There’s something about him that’s … I don’t know. Familiar.”
“You’ve met him before?” Dmitri asked.
“That’s just the thing. I’m sure I haven’t but as soon as I saw him, I felt something. It’s like some part of me should know him or recognize who he is. Does that make any sense to you?”
Dmitri looked at Brendan and said finally, “Uh-uh.”
Brendan’s shoulders sagged. “Me neither. Ow.” His hand gripped his chest.
“What’s wrong?” Dmitri asked.
“Nothing,” Brendan tugged the collar of his T-shirt down to expose the left side of his chest. “I’ve had this scar since I was a baby and it’s been
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