store. Iâm glad itâs working out for you, Roxie.â
âWell, weâll see.â She stood and smoothed down her jeans. âI was hoping to see Leslie at school. It wouldâve been nice to know someone first day, even though sheâs a few years behind me.â
âSo youâre starting Grade Eight?â
âYup. Theyâve let me in on condition.â
âOn condition of what?â
âOn condition that I show up. I missed most of Grade Seven, but they donât want me kept behind, influencing minds younger and more innocent than my own.â She grinned at me.
âWhat did you do when you skipped class?â
âExplored Toronto on the subway. I found lots of interesting places to hang out.â
âNobody missed you?â
âOh, Miss Cookeâor Cookieâtried to get me to shape up, but I wasnât all that interested in school then.â
âAnd now?â
âItâs a condition for me staying with Marcia and Bert. I have to behave, or Cookieâs going to make me move back to Toronto. Actually, she thinks being in a smaller community might help me
find my way
, as she put it.â
âDonât sell yourself short, Roxie,â I said. âIf you put your mind to doing well in school, itâll be a breeze for you. Unlike me, who has to struggle for every mark I get.â
Roxie looked at me and cocked her head to one side. âI never would have thought youâd be having trouble in school. Doesnât add up.â
I shrugged. My slipping grades were the direct result of an inability to concentrate. Not all that strange, considering. âWant to stay for supper? Dad could barbeque some ribs. I made a sauce last week thatâs lip-smacking good.â
Roxie stood up and stretched. âSure, but I have to call . . . home.â She wrapped her mouth around the word âhomeâ like she was trying it out. Even her eyes looked a little puzzled, as if she was stepping into unknown territory. The fact sheâd even thought to call somebody about her whereabouts looked like progress to me.
âLife is looking up, kid,â I said. âSmooth sailing from here on in.â
My words were hopeful, but even as they slipped out of my mouth, I realized that they probably werenât too grounded in reality. Still, sometimes itâs best not to know whatâs just around the corner.
CHAPTER FIVE
Tuesday morning came way too soon. I woke late to the drum of raindrops on the roof and water splashing down the inside wall where Iâd left the window open overnight. Jumping up to slam it shut, I craned my neck to look up at the dark clouds hanging in the sky like tufts of black cotton batting, heavy with enough rain to turn my hair into a frizzy, finger-in-the-light-socket mess.
I threw on some jeans and a not too wrinkled blue T-shirt before making my way to the kitchen for a glass of juice. Dad was sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper when I entered. He looked up at me over the sports page and gave me the thumbs up.
âNice hair.â
I ran my hand through one side and tried to shake it out. âI was planning on a shower and a leisurely breakfast, but my alarm didnât go off,â I groaned.
âHelps if you set it,â he said, ducking back behind the paper.
âVery funny,â I said half-heartedly. It was too early in the morning to even think about pretending I had a sense of humour.
Luckily, Dad took pity and dropped me off in front of the school at ten to nine. Ambie had given up waiting forme in our usual spot, and I didnât feel too good about that. Iâd promised her Iâd be there on time, for sure for sure. Maybe I shouldnât have been quite so definite.
I snuck into the opening assembly, where Principal Kirkpatrick talked about how wonderful it was to have us all back. She almost looked like she meant it. The effect was ruined by a