CHAPTER 10

ME: Hello? Ruby?

RUBY: Hey, you!

ME: I was just thinking about you!

RUBY: How you doing, little brother?

ME: I feel good now that I’m talking to you. But I was down a few minutes ago. I was kicked out of school.

RUBY: What!

ME: Yeah. Suspended till Monday.

RUBY: But hey, that’s great! It means you’re free to help me.

ME: What? When? Where? How? Sheesh, I sound like a news show. I’d ask why, too, only I don’t care why. You want me to help, so I’ll help.

RUBY: Great! Come to my place and help me pack. I’m moving home today.

ME: You are? Really? That’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time.

RUBY: Yeah, school finished last week. I got a job at a bistro on Davie that starts on Monday. What are you doing right now?

ME: Walking up Denman, looking for a fake nail place.

RUBY: What?

ME: Skip it.

RUBY: My room is a mess. Everything has to go in boxes, and the boxes all have to go into my car. With you helping, we can catch the ferry back to Horseshoe Bay in time for dinner.

ME: On my way, Ruby.

RUBY: The Number 6 bus goes from the ferry terminal to downtown. Remember where Saanich College is?

ME: I sure do not.

RUBY: Get off the ferry. Take the Number 6 bus to Fitzwilliam Street. It’s not that far. Then walk up Fitzwilliam Street to campus. It’s about six blocks uphill. Can you do that, Gussie? Or do you want me to pick you up at the terminal?

ME: No no. I can take the bus.

RUBY: Okay, The Number 6 bus to Fitzwilliam. Then up the hill. Look for the statue in the front of the main building.

ME: I’ll be there as soon as I can. Or sooner.

RUBY: You’re my favourite little brother.

When she hangs up, I rub my ear. Ruby’s a shouter, like I said. She’s my big sister. Everything about her is big, especially her voice.

She doesn’t ask why I got suspended. I love that about her. When people ask how something happened, they’re getting ready to blame you. What did you do to make this happen? is what they’re really asking. Ruby isn’t interested in whose fault it is. She’s not looking to blame anybody. Do you know how rare that is?

No one else calls me Gussie, thank the universe. But when she uses it, I smile.

Denman ends at Georgia Street. I catch the bus through Stanley Park and along the highway to the ferry terminal. Tall trees, silver water, towering bridge, majestic ocean. Whatever. I’ve lived here all my life. I’m used to the view.

Can I sit still? No.

My fingers open wide so my hands look like spiders, and then clench into fists. Then spiders. Then fists.

The wind is out of the west. When I get off the bus at the ferry terminal it really smells like the ocean. Salty and alive. I breathe it in.

A sailboat on the bay flies a giant Canadian flag. The red-and-white rectangle looks bigger than the boat. I can see every detail of the maple leaf from the shore.

The flag is flapping like the one at school.

Flap.

Flap.

Is it waving at me too? I wave back with my spider hand.

I walk onto the ferry, go inside, and sit down. Then I get up and go back outside. Sun on my left shoulder. Vancouver Island ahead.

I’m excited about seeing Ruby, but it’s been a busy morning. You don’t get suspended from school every day. I yawn, feeling my energy level droop like a loose sock.

I go back inside and sit down again. The seats are soft. The windows are big and clear. I watch the spray as the boat slides slowly away from shore. Passengers trickle up from where the cars are parked. An old couple. A guy with funny hair. A family with a little kid and a dog.

The old couple walks toward the front of the boat holding hands. The funny hair guy gets coffee from a machine. The family splits up, Mom and Dad walking toward the front of the boat, waving their arms, arguing, while the kid and dog chase each other.

I go over the directions to Ruby’s college. Number 6 bus. Fitzwilliam. Uphill. Statue. Got it. Don’t forget.

When you think about it, there are so many things we have to do to stay alive. Breathe, sweat, see and hear, pump blood. These things happen without us thinking about them. Imagine if we had to remember to breathe. There we are, watching TV, and we have to remind ourselves:

Breathe in now! Hwooo. Good. Now, let’s see, SpongeBob is on his way home from the Krusty Krab and he runs into — Wait! Breathe out. Haaaa. Okay, he runs into Patrick, but Patrick doesn’t recognize him, so he — Breathe in! Come on, lungs, do your job. Hwooo.

Sorry, got distracted there. Forgetting a bus number is not as important as forgetting to breathe. But I don’t want to do it.

Some pretty solid waves hit the ferry, making it go up … and down and up … and down and up … The window beside me shows a big chunk of the coast and the Georgia Strait. The horizon tilts this way … and that way … and this way …

I swallow even though there’s nothing in my mouth, and head for the door to the main deck.

The sun and a snappy breeze make the green water sparkle. I stand near the railing and take deep breaths — conscious of it, remembering to do it, hwooo, haaaaa — and immediately feel better.

Here’s that family again. Mom and Dad pace down the deck like royalty, hands behind their backs, until Dad lights a cigarette. Then Mom throws her hands in the air and goes back inside. Meanwhile, the boy and dog race around the deck with lots of panting and yipping. There’s the sailboat, on our left. The big Canadian flag attached to the back end of the boat flaps excitedly.

Flap.

Flap.

“Noodle! No, girl! Leave the boy alone!”

The dog is sniffing at my ankles. I bend down and offer a hand.

“I like dogs,” I say to the kid. “Hi, Noodle.”

The dog sits down on the deck and stares up at me, head on one side. She’s really interested, for some reason. Now the kid is doing it too. I don’t know why. I’m a regular guy in baggy jeans, hoodie and runners, standing on the deck of a ferry boat, holding tight to the railing. The wind blows. The boat bumps up and down.

“Is there a smutch on my cheek?” I ask. “Is that why you’re staring? I stared at a calf once because it had two heads. So if I’ve grown another head, I totally get why you’re staring.”

The boy doesn’t smile.

“I’m staring because Noodle is, and she is a smart dog. She can see the wind. If she’s staring at you, there’s a reason.”

Noodle has floppy ears and big shoulders. Sitting, she comes up to my waist. Her fur fits tight on her, so you can see her muscles. Her eyes are shiny black stones.

“I’m Niall,” the kid says. “I’m going to Nanaimo to visit my nani. That’s why I’m not in school today.”

I tell him my name, and that I’m going to visit my sister. The boat lurches. He grabs the rail beside me.

Noodle has no problem balancing. She sits on the deck, staring up at me, her head to one side.

I’m freaking out a little bit. What’s going on with Noodle? Does she know something I don’t?

Niall says he has to go, and runs off, calling Noodle. The dog stands up, shakes herself, and nods at me. A friendly nod. I sketch a wave at her. She trots after Niall.

The ship goes up … and down. The island is getting closer.

I realize suddenly — and I guess all realizations are sudden ones — that I have forgotten how to get to Ruby’s. I knew how to do it a few minutes ago, but the information is gone.

There’s a bus and a street. But what number bus and what street name?

Come on, brain! Don’t do this! Don’t let me down!

I yawn wide enough to swallow a tennis ball. Number something bus to something street.

Why can’t I remember? No, take that back. I don’t care why. I just want the information back.