Lucy’s pace slowed as the shovelling got louder. Why did I ever agree to this? What was I thinking? Beads of sweat prickled along her hairline. She switched the glass of Kool-Aid to the other hand so she could hold the cold one to her forehead. I know what I was thinking. I was thinking about The Digger’s mom.
The hamster in Lucy’s head had been going around and around on its little wheel ever since she’d found out The Digger’s mom had been her mom’s best friend. Maybe she could get him to take her to meet his mom. But then she shook her head. No. How would that happen? That would mean she would have to have some kind of conversation. Ick. No way she was going to do anything more than she had to. All Josie said was to take him a drink. So that’s just what she was going to do, take him this drink. Because then Josie would have to do something for her, right? She’d owe her. Lucy would get Josie to take her to meet The Digger’s mom. Might almost be worth it.
Feeling a little more confident now that she knew how it was all going to play out, she took a deep breath and rounded the corner of the lane. There he was, in the middle of the field, digging away…. Who was she kidding? Dump the glass and run! Dump the glass and run!
He stopped shovelling when he saw her and waved—a wide, sweeping wave over his head.
She jerked to a stop. Did he just wave? Like all friendly? Who does he think he is? She clenched her teeth and continued towards the hole. I’m getting this over with as fast as possible.
She stood next to a pile of dirt, the condensation from the glass dripping down her arm. They studied each other, sizing each other up. She noticed he had the same grey T-shirt on as always. It looked about ten sizes too big. So did his jean shorts. He looked like a hobo clown. She wondered who would speak first. Well, it’s not gonna be me. I don’t plan on speaking at all.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” she said back. She couldn’t help it—automatic reflex.
His eyes went to the glass in her hand. “It would be really cool if that was for me.”
She frowned. She expected him to have some kind of hick accent, but he didn’t.
His eyebrows shot up in surprise when she extended her arm and offered him the glass. “Thanks. I was sort of joking.” He chugged it all at once, and handed it back to her. “I needed that,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Ick.
A few seconds passed.
Okay, Lucy. Deed done. Free to go. But her feet stayed firmly on the spot. “Nice hole,” she said, then immediately winced. Nice hole? What?
She could tell he was trying not to laugh.
Attempting to hide her face, she focused on the empty glass in her hand. “Josie, my aunt, uh, great-aunt, made me bring this so, yeah, it was her idea. Just so you know….”
“That it wasn’t your idea?”
She stuck out her chin. “Yeah. Because it wasn’t.”
“Okay.” He shrugged.
“So…um…what are you digging?”
He shook his head. “You wouldn’t get it.”
“Try me.”
“I’m not digging anything in particular.”
“Oh. Then why are you doing it?”
“It’s more of a protest type thing.”
“Protest for what?”
“Against my mom. I’m really, really….” He paused and screwed up his mouth. “Mad at her.”
“I see,” Lucy said, nodding. Maybe he was right about her not getting it.
He stabbed his shovel into a pile of dirt dangerously close to where she was standing. “She drags us here. Moves us without even discussing it first. Just up and moves us! I didn’t even get a vote. No one did. I had to leave everything—my friends, my school, my baseball team, my boat!” He yanked out the shovel and jammed it in the pile again.
Lucy kept nodding; she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to comment.
“And then! She left my suitcase in some hotel in New Brunswick,” he went on. “She says it’s my fault for not keeping track of it. But she’s the mom. She’s supposed to check that I have all my stuff, right?”
Lucy played it safe. “Sure.”
“Now I have to wait for the moving truck to get here with the rest of my clothes.” He hiked up his baggy shorts. “Lucky for me, I found these in the barn with this shirt. Came with the house.”
“And your mom won’t buy you any clothes to tide you over?”
“She offered, but I said no. I don’t want anything from her.” He gave his waistband another tug. “These will do just fine.”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “You still didn’t explain the hole.”
“It’s to symbolize my need to escape,” he said importantly, like he was addressing a crowd. “I’m tunnelling my way to freedom.”
Freak show. “Wow. That’s…deep.”
“Ha! Good one. Clever. Deep. Like the hole.”
“Yup. That’s me. Clever.” Lucy forced a smile—the pun had been pure coincidence. “Does your mom get it? Is it working?”
“No.” He moved towards the edge of the hole and started digging. “She thinks it’s great that I’m spending so much time outdoors getting exercise.”
This time it was Lucy who tried not to laugh.
“Now I think I’m just doing it more to wreck the field,” he continued. “I know she’s planning on making it into a garden. I’ll trash the whole friggin’ thing if I have to.”
Lucy looked around at the field. “Going to be a lot of work. Plus the heat’s wicked.”
“I feel better when I dig. And it keeps me away from her. I don’t have to worry about saying something I might regret.” The blade of the shovel hit a rock and he made a face. “She needs to say sorry. Because something big like this—like moving halfway across the country—isn’t all up to her. I mean, shouldn’t I get a say?”
She knew how he felt. But at least at the end of the summer she got to go home and back to her friends. “Yeah. Something like this, you should get a say.”
Blasting out a giant sigh, he looked past her, up the lane. “You’re staying with Josie, huh? My mom told me about her, back in the old days, when we were speaking. She’s supposed to be a riot.”
“Yup. A real barrel of laughs.”
“Mom’s been threatening to drag me over to meet you,” he said.
“I was kind of threatened too. It wasn’t my idea to…you know….” She held up the glass.
“Yeah, you mentioned that.”
Right.
“It’s Lucy, isn’t it?”
She nodded.
“Colin,” he said.
She nodded again.
He tilted his head. “Lucy. Don’t think I know a Lucy. Is it short for anything? Lucille?”
“Ew. No.”
“Lucy from Charlie Brown? ’Cause that’d be kind of cool.”
“No.” At least she didn’t think so.
“I have this thing about names, how people got theirs. Weird, huh?”
“Not really,” she lied.
“Like, I was named after my mom’s favourite soap opera character. I don’t spread that around, though.”
“Oh.” General Hospital? Another World? She tried to remember which one had a Colin.
“Maybe you’re named after a soap star too,” he said. “Bet there’s a Lucy on one of them.”
She couldn’t think of any. “Maybe my mom just liked the name.”
“You should ask her. Might be a story there.”
I should have. Why didn’t I? “I can’t. She, uh, died.”
Red crept up his neck. “Right.” He looked down and kicked at some loose rocks. “I knew that. I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“I guess I forgot for a sec.”
“Really, it’s okay. Umm….” She chewed on the inside of her cheek. She wanted to ask him how he knew. Must have been his mom. “I should probably go.”
“Well, thanks for the drink,” he said.
“It was—”
“Not your idea. Yeah, I know.”
She started towards the lane.
“I’m here pretty much every morning!” he called after her. “You could come and hang out you know, if you’re bored. I know I am.”
“Uh, yeah, maybe,” she answered, not very loudly, and without turning around.
“Okay! Maybe I’ll see you later then!” he shouted.
She started walking faster.
That did not go at all the way I planned it.
For the first morning since she’d arrived, Lucy didn’t wake to the sound of shovelling. She woke to a completely different sound. A sound she couldn’t identify. It was mechanical, and it seemed to be right next to her head. Tossing back her covers, she thumped down the hall to the room next door. There was Josie, sitting at a sewing machine, foot pressed to the pedal, running a long length of fabric under the needle. She was totally unaware of how much noise she was making or that Lucy was standing in the doorway. The machine was against the same wall as Lucy’s bed, which explained all the racket.
A cigarette was hanging out of Josie’s mouth, the curve of the ash bending straight downwards. Lucy couldn’t take her eyes off it, waiting for it to fall onto the material at any second. She was afraid to stomp her foot in case the vibration caused it to break off.
Josie paused, squinting through the smoke as she cut a strand of thread. But that curve of ash was still hanging on for dear life.
Lucy held her breath. Flick the ash! She was about to rush over and cup her hands under the cigarette when Josie finally transferred the cigarette to an ashtray.
Lucy’s breath gushed out and she stomped her foot.
Josie looked up. “Did I wake you?”
“A bit.” Lucy said. “I’m going down for breakfast.”
“Put the coffee on.”
Lucy measured out the coffee and plugged in the percolator. After a minute, the smell filled the kitchen, and she drummed her fingers impatiently on the counter as she listened to the hissing and gurgling.
Josie came in just as the coffee finished perking.
The sugar bowl was empty. Lucy held it out, turning it on its side so Josie could see. “Sugar?”
“Here.” Josie opened the cupboard and pulled out a large plastic ice cream container. Inside were hundreds of sugar packets, the kind from restaurants and coffee shops. “Anytime I’m out somewhere, I just throw a few extra in my purse.”
A few? “Isn’t that like stealing?” Lucy asked.
“Last word again?”
“Stealing,” Lucy repeated carefully.
“Pfft. That’s what I thought you said.”
“Well, isn’t it?”
“Do you have rocks in your head?” She flicked her hand. “They factor all that into the price. Some people use no sugar, I only put in one, and then there’s people like you, who use four or five sugars. It all evens out.”
“I guess….” But she wasn’t so sure as she watched Josie tear the tops off a bunch of packets and pour them into the bowl.
Lucy sipped her coffee sweetened with sugar of questionable origins and curled up on the porch swing with another of Josie’s Harlequins. She’d finished the last one in a day and a half, and it had been pretty good. More than pretty good. She hadn’t been able to put it down. This one was called A New Nanny for the King, and she could tell from the cover that it was going to be even better. A girl in a green velvet ball gown was dancing with a gorgeous, shirtless guy. Who goes to a ball with no shirt? And the King—he was wearing a crown—was in the background, arms folded, glaring at them. Oooh. There was definitely going to be a love triangle. Perfect!
She glanced towards the lane. It bordered one end of Colin’s field. He wasn’t there this morning. It was weird. It was also weird that Josie hadn’t asked how their meeting went. She’d just looked very pleased with herself when Lucy brought back the empty glass. How did she know Lucy had even gone through with it? How did she know Lucy hadn’t pretended to go and then just poured out the glass? Because that had crossed her mind. Probably another one of her reverse-psychology tricks—she didn’t want to make a fuss about it.
Opening her book, she tried to concentrate on the first page, but her eyes kept drifting back to the lane. She strained her ears. Still no shovelling. Hmm…he’d told her he was there every morning. Maybe this was his way of letting her know he’d changed his mind, that he didn’t want any company.
Fine by me. I wasn’t planning on going over anyway.