In June, Imogene gets a good report card. When she starts grade ten, she’ll be in the academic stream and can take advanced math if she wants. Maggie’s voice chirps with enthusiasm in the earpiece of the kitchen phone. She says she’s sending a bus ticket in the mail, round-trip to St. John’s. She and Robert will be there for a real-estate conference in the middle of August. Imogene can go up in July and stay with Uncle Kenneth—he’s on board with it all. Imogene can stay with him and Beth, and later, Maggie will arrive to visit with her. She’ll take Imogene shopping for school supplies at the Avalon Mall.
Nan gets on the extension and says that’s ridiculous and it’s too long a bus trip for a young girl all by herself. “Well, Mom,” Maggie says, “You can come too if you want. We’ll send two tickets and you can see your youngest son’s new place.”
“No thank you very much,” Nan says. “I’m just fine here.” And then she huffs and puffs for a few minutes and says, “Fine, ’cause I knows now Imogene will mope all summer if she doesn’t go. As long as someone is there to meet her, she can go by herself.”
The night before she leaves, Imogene takes out her list of questions. The last time she saw Maggie was two Christmases ago. Last summer, Imogene was supposed to go up to Ontario, but she broke her collarbone jumping off Uncle Eli’s trike and spent most of the summer indoors, watching reruns, sooky and bored out of her wits. And then they thought Maggie would visit at Christmas, but it turned out Robert bought her a cruise and the two of them were off to the Caribbean. So, when Imogene and Maggie are together in St. John’s, it will be the first time they’ve had a private, face-to-face conversation in over two years. It is time for a talk. And as far as Imogene knows, Maggie has no idea about all the Cecil shit. Her suspension has never come up in telephone conversations. If she’s going to find out the truth, she should be prepared.
Questions for Maggie:
Imogene brings three books to read on the bus, but spends most of the ride staring out the window. If the drive was by car, they’d be there in eight hours, but the bus ride stretches it out to eleven. They stop at gas stations and intersections and the overpriced airport cafeteria in Gander: five friggin’ bucks for a small fries and a fountain Coke. Sometimes someone just puts a box on the bus; sometimes passengers stagger on and drink out of hidden bottles. Imogene lets her eyes be dragged into a dance over tens of thousands of treetops and clusters of alders. She sees two moose, she sees kids on trikes. She sees one of the cutest guys she’s ever seen in the parking lot at the Clarenville stop and when the bus pulls out, she opens her hand in a wave at him and he waves back and she smiles to herself for a long time afterwards.
It is dark when the bus arrives. Uncle Kenneth and his girlfriend Beth are there to meet her. Beth has kind, crinkly eyes and her hair hangs in a thick, blond braid stretching to her shoulder blades. Uncle Kenneth is the same as when he visited last Christmas: big dark mustache and gruff voice. He’s lost a little more hair, his forehead is ridged with thin spokes. Beth says her daughter Violet is back at the house. Imogene will meet her when they get there.
Imogene is told there is a park across the street from the apartment, but it is too dark and shadowy to see when they get out of the car. Just rustling trees and a dark path. The apartment is on top of a medical-supply store. They climb a narrow staircase to an apartment with hardwood floors, burgundy walls, and Violet on the floral-print couch. Violet has spiky, sandy hair cut short in front and long in the back. Her earrings don’t match, and her eyes don’t match either, one blue, one hazel. She gives Imogene a big grin and shakes her hand. Imogene has never had a girl shake her hand before; it’s always been Uncle Kenneth or Uncle Eli and they do it in a jokey way. Violet looks Imogene up and down. “Well, look at you,” she says.
“Look at you too,” Imogene says and Violet laughs. She asks Imogene how old she is and Imogene says fifteen. Violet is seventeen. “If you don’t have plans tomorrow,” Violet says, “I’ll take you around.” Imogene can’t imagine any plans she would have.
That night, Imogene watches the headlights of passing cars reflect on the ceiling through the gap between the curtain rod and the window. Engines, footsteps, and the occasional snippet of conversation, a laugh, an exclamation. She thinks about how in St. Felix’s she can recognize everyone’s vehicles by their headlights and here, she won’t see anyone she knows and she is glad.
When she gets up the next day, Uncle Kenneth has already left for work. Beth says, “Let’s have our toast and tea in Bannerman Park.” They wrap the buttered toast in paper towels and place it and a thermos of tea in a silver lunchbox. The three of them trot across the street to the park. Beth and Violet hardly pause at the crosswalk.
The trees of Bannerman Park are enticing to Imogene, which seems silly since all she sees in St. Felix’s are trees. But St. Felix’s trees grow sideways in the wind and these are tall manicured beings with beckoning paths beneath them, leading out to swings and a tube slide and a blue swimming pool. They sit at a picnic table and Violet kicks her red jelly shoes off and smooshes her toes in the grass. “Watch out for dog shit,” Beth says. They drink tea and munch toast. They watch people wander around, babies in strollers, dogs on leashes and teenagers on bikes selling Dickie Dee ice-cream novelties: yellow Pac-Mans with a gumball eye, Rockets and Mr. Freezes. A couple lolls a blanket in front of the gazebo, making out like animals. Beth says, “Some people have no shame.” Violet just laughs.
Violet is supposed to be looking for a summer job, but when she takes Imogene to the mall, she doesn’t fill out any applications. They wander around to see who’s there. They eat potato chips in the food court and Violet asks her questions. “What kind of music do you like? What do people do out your way for fun? Any hot guys in your school?” She shakes her head at Imogene’s musical tastes except for when she says Depeche Mode. “Me and my ex used to drive out to Outer Cove and listen to Music for the Masses. Best album to drive to,” she says. She asks Imogene if she watches Much Music and declares Nan a tyrant for refusing to get cable.
Imogene is fidgety with want over so many things: ankle boots and bracelets and INXS tapes and a long black top that hangs over one shoulder. Nan gave her sixty-five bucks for the three weeks and expects money back. “That’s over twenty dollars a week,” Nan said. “Why would you need more than that?”
They take the bus back downtown. Walking down Water and Duckworth is fun, but the trudge up the steep hill to Military Road is a pain. “Downtown townies gotta have strong arses,” Violet says, smacking her own bum.
Beth and Kenneth let Imogene and Violet sleep in most mornings, but expect chores to be done, like hitching up the tiny washing machine to the sink for small piles of laundry. The clothesline goes out the bathroom window and if anything falls off, they have to run down the stairs and rescue it from the backyard before it blows into the street. Violet complains about having to hang their nightclothes out for all of downtown to see. Drawers and bras are strung along the shower rail.
On the first weekend, Uncle Kenneth brings them out to a U-pick for strawberries and says he’ll pay twenty bucks to whoever picks the most, as long as they do it without complaining. Imogene wins. They eat berries in the car and he drives them out to Cape Spear. It’s very pretty, but Imogene can’t get that excited about cliffs and water since St. Felix’s is all cliffs and water. There is a sign that says Cape Spear is the most easterly point in North America. Uncle Kenneth takes a picture of them next to it, but Violet won’t give him a big smile because she says she has strawberry in her teeth. Uncle Kenneth sighs loudly at her and when he gives Imogene the twenty bucks, he slips her another ten.
Violet takes her around downtown. They watch boys Violet knows play games in the arcade on Water Street. They watch boys Violet knows skateboard by the War Memorial. The boys complain about cops. Violet knows a lot of people and complains about having nothing to do.
The boy Violet talks to the most is named Chad. He is seventeen and parts his hair to one side so it hangs in a bleach-blond wing over his left eye. He tells them his older brother has left him his hatchback to drive all summer. Violet just nods at this, so Imogene does too. Chad’s best friend is Anton, who is tall and dark. Chad announces it’s because he’s part Paki and Anton just shrugs. He asks Imogene if that’s her real hair colour. She says, “Why would I dye my hair this colour?” Anton says, “Why not? I would.” And he runs his hand through his black, black hair and when he smiles, his teeth are white, even perfection and his eyelids make him look mysterious. Imogene would like to stare at him for a very long time.
The first day it rains, Violet tells Imogene to order a pizza for pick-up from Venice Pizzeria. Imogene has never ordered a pizza before. Beth and Violet get very excited about this and giggle so much when Imogene is trying to listen to the list of toppings that she just tells the guy to put on whatever. When she arrives in her poncho to pick it up, it’s not ready because they thought it was a prank phone call.
August starts and the Regatta gets a lot of hype with ads on the radio and people gleeful with the possibility of a day off. Imogene looks forward to it, but on the day, it’s like a large garden party with bigger teddy bears for prizes. The crowd moves slowly around the lake and junk-food stands and the urge to spend her money annoys her. They watch the boat races for a while, but she’s not sure who to cheer for and Violet is more interested in looking at guys.
They meet Chad and Anton sitting on the pan of a pick-up by the boat house. Chad passes out cans of beer. “They’re IDing at the beer tent,” he says. Violet bums a smoke from Chad and he gives Imogene one as well. She swallows the smoke instead of breathing it in. It tastes like dried garbage. But Anton can French inhale and the smoke drifting up into his nostrils is sexy in a dirty kind of way.
The crowd wanes and fog starts to roll in. Chad wants to go for a drive. Anton gets a case of beer at an Irving station. “Let’s go out to the fort,” he says. They drive under the overpass and down a narrow street with worn-looking houses. They park by the warning sign for tourists and head towards the grey walls. At the top of the stairs, Chad holds up a hand to wait and as soon as the foghorn blast ends, they scamper down and past it. At the landing, there is light from the moon and her foot kicks a chunk of glass against the rocks. “Figured there would be others here,” Anton says. “No one on the go tonight.”
Violet and Chad move to the wall and are silhouetted against the glowing sky. Violet’s nose is short and neat, like a young animal’s. Imogene thinks it is a beautiful nose. And Violet is beautiful herself, they are all beautiful. Anton hands her a flask and she lets the smoky liquid make a path in her throat and Anton is beautiful and he makes her feel beautiful. His eyes are darkened, but she can feel them on her and when she passes back the flask, their fingers touch. “Your hand is cold,” he says and he takes it and puts it in his jacket pocket with his own.
“So, you’re only around for a few weeks?” he says. “That’s too bad.”
“Yeah, I don’t want to go back.”
“Stay here then.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“Why not? You could work it out here.” His fingers stroke hers in his pocket. “If my mom can come here and get used to the cold, anyone can do it.” He takes a sip from the flask and passes it to her. “I mean, it’s why everyone came to Canada and the US anyway. If where you’re from ruins your life, fuckin’ leave.”
“Yeah, but my nan would kill me.”
“Well, you can’t mess with Nan.”
“I’m starved,” Violet says. “Froze to death.”
Back in the car, Anton brushes his lips against Imogene’s and then down her neck, which creates a swarm of shivers. And Violet laughs at them for kissing and they stop. But he kisses her again when they pull up to his house and his tongue goes into her mouth and she can feel the bumpy ridge of his taste buds. She lets him probe her mouth, her eyes squeezed shut. And right before he gets out of the car, he says he’ll see her at the show tomorrow.
But he doesn’t show up at the all-ages show and she and Violet and a girl named Mireille dance in front of the stage. Imogene feels a secret relief that Anton didn’t come and it makes her dance with increased freedom. She doesn’t know the name of the band, but they are loud and energetic. Everyone does whatever they want when they dance. Back home, everyone only dances facing each other in matching lines, boy and girl or girl and girl.
Afterwards, they try to get into bars on George Street, but none will let them in except the Corner Stone. The guy at the door nods quickly, like he’s pretending they aren’t real. The downstairs is a pub with older guys watching sports. They go upstairs where there is a dance floor with staircases on either side. Violet has money from babysitting and Imogene has her berry-picking money. She tries a white Russian and a rum and coke and a beer and pukes them all up in one go in the bathroom, but doesn’t make a big mess. Beth and Kenneth aren’t home when they get back and the next day they don’t notice how crappy she feels.
Then Maggie calls to say they’re not going to come down. Robert thinks the conference in Niagara makes more sense right now. “I’m sorry,” Maggie says. “This is what happens when you become your own boss. If Cronin Realty is going to succeed, we have to grab all the opportunities we can.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.”
“It really is. I’m so sorry. We’ll try for sometime this fall. Or Christmas.”
Imogene’s core tangles with the sink of disappointment and a pang of relief. Once again, another Maggie shag-up. Another stretch of time without the clarity of a face-to-face talk. But she’s having fun. It’s nice to be a new person. No history. No past impressions. And what if Maggie’s answers aren’t what she wants to hear? Maggie might treat Imogene differently if she suddenly has nothing to hide. If it’s true, Imogene won’t want to go back home. And how could she ask Maggie if she can live with her?
Maggie asks Kenneth to give Imogene money. She’ll pay him back. Kenneth tells Imogene this and says all he has right now is seventy-five dollars. He places three twenties and a ten and a five in Imogene’s hand and it immediately burns to be spent. She and Violet take the Route 3 to the mall.
Maggie says the money is for school supplies and new runners. “Is she going to check your bags?” Violet says.
“Nope.”
“Then, what do you really want to buy?”
“These,” Imogene says. The ankle boots are turquoise vinyl with a spiralling pattern of pin holes on the sides.
“Get ’em,” Violet says.
And the jeans with the zippers on the bottom and the long flower-print T-shirt with the pocket over the heart. Imogene makes sure to pick out things no one has in St. Felix’s and that Violet approves of. A long strand of turquoise beads to match the boots. A pair of earrings that are silver puffed hearts.
“Those are cute,” Violet says.
“They’re for Rita. I don’t have my ears pierced.”
“Well, I know what you’re spending ten bucks on.”
The girl at the salon uses a piercing gun to double-stab Imogene’s earlobes so they look like tiny vampire bites in each. The piercings come with free studs, so she gets one gold and one rhinestone diamond for each ear. When they exit the salon, they see Chad and Anton in the arcade. Anton puts his arm around Imogene’s shoulders and it feels cool to stand in the arcade looking like a couple. They go into a photo booth and take two strips of photos making faces together and then a third strip where they’re kissing and they split those—two photos each. “When do you leave?” Anton asks. “Tomorrow,” Imogene says. “Shit,” he says. “Give me your address.”
When they leave the mall, Imogene has the jeans, the ankle boots, two T-shirts, two strings of beads, an armful of bangles, the photos of her and Anton, Rita’s earrings, and two studs in each earlobe. Violet pays for Imogene’s second piercings as a gift and gets her own done way up on the top of her ear. No school supplies or sneakers. “Fuck that,” Violet says. “I’ll give you my stuff. Like anyone needs half that shit.”
At the apartment, Violet hands Imogene a pair of dusty canvas sneakers, a plaid pencil case containing an array of pens with chewed tops, and a Pluto Pez dispenser.
“There,” she says. “Supplies covered.”
The next day, Imogene tries not to cry when she gets on the bus. “It doesn’t matter anyway,” Violet says. “Ken got me a job up at Mount Scio picking savory. I’d be busy all the time now.”
“It’s only for a couple of weeks,” Kenneth says. “It will cover your back-to-school clothes, which seems to be the only thing that motivates you.” Violet rolls her eyes.
On the bus home, Imogene lets her forehead rest on the window. It rains through most of Central. Drops of water congregate and chase each other down the glass. She puts Violet’s taped-off Depeche Mode tape in her Walkman and listens to “Never Let Me Down Again” over and over, stop, rewind, play. When the bus arrives at the Petro-Can, it’s dark and Nan is waiting. Imogene snoozes in the Beretta on the drive back.
The next morning, Nan asks how Maggie and Robert are. When Imogene explains they didn’t come down from Ontario, Nan has a fit.
“The whole purpose of sending you across the province was so your mother could see you,” Nan says. “Jesus Christ, two years since she’s seen her own daughter.” Nan gets on the phone. “Margaret Josephine Tubbs, I can’t believe you. You couldn’t even see her, you couldn’t bring yourself to prioritize your own child. She’s been running wild around St. John’s all summer. No, I will not listen.”
Imogene goes to her room. Where to go. She’ll go over to Uncle Eli’s. Even if Rita’s not home, they’ll let her hang out. She puts the heart-shaped earrings in her pocket and boots it out the door. In the kitchen, Nan’s voice has climbed to a pitch that could shred tin.
On the way to Uncle Eli’s, she sees three figures on the road. Her stomach flips for a second; maybe it’s Liam and his friends. But the figures are definitely female: Rita with Natalie Sampson and Cherry MacIssac. When they get up close, Imogene can see they all have their hair in banana clips with their bangs curled.
“When’d you get back?” Rita says.
“Last night.”
“Your hair’s some long,” Cherry says. “How was your trip?”
“It was great. I got my ears pierced.” Imogene pulls back her hair to show her double-pierced earlobes.
“That kind of piercing can get infected easy,” Natalie says.
“Sure, I did mine myself,” Cherry says. “All you need is an ice cube and a needle.”
“Ew, Imogene, one’s turning pink.”
“I got a bunch of new clothes too,” Imogene says. “And Cousin Violet is friggin’ wicked.”
“Look at you, talkin’ like a townie now.”
“Uncle Ken doesn’t have any kids,” Rita says.
“Violet is his girlfriend Beth’s kid.”
“She’s not really our cousin, though,” Rita says. “I met her last Christmas. She was right stuck-up.”
“I met a cute guy too,” Imogene says. She takes out the strip of photos of her and Anton in the mall. Rita wrinkles her nose. “He’s some dark.”
“You got a funny definition of cute,” Natalie says.
“Did you hear who Nick Cleary is going out with?” Rita says. Natalie and Cherry shake their heads in disapproval.
“Teresa Fucking Loder.”
“He’s only with her because she’s a slut,” Natalie says.
“Oh yeah, and a bunch of cabins were broke into last week,” Cherry says. “Everyone thinks it was Liam and Randy.”
“They might have to go to court.”
“If they do, they’ll probably send Liam off to Whitbourne. He’s already on probation for taking money from the school canteen.”
“B’ys, we gotta go,” Cherry says.
“We’re going to Stephenville with Cherry’s sister,” Rita says. “Going to get school stuff.”
“And see a movie.”
“Cool,” Imogene says.
“Sorry, there’s only room for four in the truck,” Cherry says. Natalie smirks, her shiny cheeks pink and round. Imogene makes a fist around the earrings in her pocket. The bottom tips of the puffed hearts stab her palm.
Imogene goes to the beach. The waves scrape the pebbles forward and back, offering and retrieving. She takes out the earrings. She thinks about how they would look flying up and over and into the water. She returns them to her pocket. Violet is right; they are cute. They’ll look good on the first day of school.