Monique led us through Bouvier’s dark territory like a jungle explorer. We cut through backyards, squeezed through a broken section of a wooden fence and navigated unlit alleys until we reached Main Street. I’d never been to Remi’s house, so I had to stick close to the Boudreaus or I’d get totally lost. We crossed Main Street and headed for the cul-de-sac between the church and my school. The fir trees, lined up like soldiers along a parade route, ran along a short road past the towering brick buildings to the squat Georges P. Vanier Composite High School. A chain-link fence surrounded the drab one-storey junior and senior high school building. The greyed venetian blinds in every window reminded me of cell bars.
“Quit gawking,” barked Monique. “I don’t have all night to wait for you goofs.”
Now I knew why teenagers were always so cranky; I’d be upset too if I had to go to this prison school.
Remi started to climb the fence.
“Elementary students aren’t allowed in the high school yard,” I said.
One time, Eric Johnson tossed a Frisbee over the fence of the high school grounds. Instead of leaving it there, he climbed the fence to get it. A pack of teenagers caught him and tried to make him eat the Frisbee. When he couldn’t bite through the plastic, the boys stuffed Eric into a garbage can and rolled him across the street back to our school. Since then, no elementary student ever went near Vanier.
“You’re going to get in trouble,” I said.
“It’s night. There’s no one here. We’ll be safe.”
“Are you sure?”
“I do it all the time,” he said.
Monique was already at the top of the fence. “Come on.”
“Okay . . . ” I started to climb the fence. A chilly breeze blew up my skirt. I stepped back. “I can’t.”
“It’s easy, Marty,” Remi said. “Climb up and swing your leg over and jump down on the other side.
“I’ll rip my mom’s dress.”
“Oh, right.” Remi hopped down. “Monique. We’re going the long way.”
She landed on the other side. “I’m not climbing the fence again.”
“We’re almost home. Marty and I can make it the rest of the way by ourselves,” Remi said.
“Yeah, and you’ll tell Mom that I bailed on you.”
“Then maybe she’ll let me go out on my own.”
Brother and sister glared at each other through the chain-link fence.
“This is stupid,” Monique muttered. She climbed the fence and straddled the top. “Marty, let’s go.”
“My mom will kill me if I rip her dress.”
“Don’t be a baby,” she said. “Give me your hand.”
She reached down. I slowly raised my hand, thinking she was going to pull me up and over. Instead, she grabbed my sleeve. The silky Cheong Sam dress slipped right off me!
“Now you don’t have to worry about ripping the dress,” she said, holding it up.
“Give that back,” I said.
“Ew! Skid mark.” Remi pointed at my underwear.
Monique chuckled.
“It’s not funny,” I said. “Give back the dress.”
Remi yelled at his sister, “Just toss it down. Marty and I’ll walk around the yard.”
“Quiet,” Monique hissed. “Someone’s coming. It’s the Sandwich Brothers.”
Remi and I scrambled up and over the fence. I landed on the other side and laid flat on the cold, crunchy lawn beside Remi. I listened for the Boissonaults, but heard only Monique’s laughter.
“Gotcha!” She said.
Remi stood up. “You dumb monkey butt.”
His sister sneered. “I got your friend moving, didn’t I?”
“Monique,” I interrupted. “Can I have my dress back now?”
She tossed me the Cheong Sam. She hopped down off the fence while I pulled the dress over my head with Remi’s help.
“You two look so cute. Like a married couple,” she teased.
“Take that back,” Remi said. “Or else.”
“Or else what? You’ll cry?”
He charged at his sister, but she neatly stepped aside and grabbed him in a headlock.
“Do you like that? Does it smell good?” Monique turned his head and rubbed his nose in her armpit.
“No. No. Ugh. It stinks. It stinks.”
“Take a big whiff.”
“Gross. Let go.”
“Say uncle.”
“No,” Remi gagged.
“Say it.”
She twisted him around again. I thought his head was going to pop off.
“Uncle,” he finally grunted.
“Works every time,” she said to me, letting go of her brother.
“Duh! Uncle doesn’t count when my fingers are crossed.”
“Sounds like someone needs another pit stop.”
“I dare you,” Remi said, stepping beyond her reach.
“Do we have to climb the fence again?” I asked, trying to change the subject.
Monique shook her head. “There’s a gate on the other side. Let’s go.”
The frosty grass crunched under our feet like we were walking on shredded wheat. We headed along the front of the school building until we reached the track field. Across the wide yard, fir trees towered over the fence, marking the end of the schoolyard.
Behind her brother, Monique stepped on the back of his shoes, tripping him up.
“Quit it,” Remi said, picking up the pace.
She hopped forward, snagging his other shoe.
He spun around. “I said quit it.”
“Don’t be a baby.”
“You want to walk in front, go ahead.”
“You first,” Monique said.
Shivering in my thin Cheong Sam, I hoped the bickering Boudreaus would run out of steam soon, but as they walked ahead of me, I heard something else in the air. Distant laughter.
“Do you hear that?” I asked.
Monique turned around. “You think I’m going to fall for that gag?”
“I’m serious,” I said. “Listen.”
The laughter grew louder.
“Where’s that coming from?” I asked.
“From behind the fir trees,” she replied.
“What’s there?” I asked.
Remi whispered, “The graveyard.”