This River Awakens

  II

  Elouise remembered a rabbit. It had probably been someone’s pet, tentative as it made its way into her garden. Jennifer had been a child then. Though Elouise knew the rabbit would eat into her vegetables, she didn’t have the heart to let Sten loose his dogs on it. And Jennifer had been so excited, crouching on the lawn in her frilly summer dress, her white socks pulled right up to her knees. The rabbit knew she was there. It heard the girl cooing, calling it forward with a celery stick in one hand.

  The rabbit had escaped from somewhere, and now the world opened to it. It was both frightened and bold, far too confident for what was waiting out there. Dogs, cats, an owl, a hawk. Its fur was white, and it looked fat and slow – one day soon it would meet its end.

  The little girl, had she known, would have cried her heart out.

  Elouise decided that there were some things it was better for a child never to learn about, at least until she had to. Life was hard enough.

  The rabbit ate its fill among the lettuces and endives. One of the dogs in the kennel saw it then and started barking, which set off the others. The rabbit cocked an ear, then padded away.

  They never saw it again.

  Elouise had found the memory alive in her mind as soon as she woke. It haunted her, as if the rabbit had calmly jumped out of a nightmare into her waking life.

  But the garden was dead. For this summer at least. Whatever had seeded itself from last season had withered in the drought. There’d be no rabbits this year. They remained in their cages, unable to escape, unable to see what lay beyond the wire mesh. They didn’t know it, but they were safe in there. Cared for and protected. As much as they might claw at the latch, they lived in a perfect world.

  She stood silent and motionless at the kitchen window and watched Jennifer head up the road. The first day of school. The house behind her was quiet. Sleeping, sleeping all through the long days.

  Poor rabbit. Elouise wanted to cry. Poor thing.

  III

  Jennifer left a quiet house. Her father had taken to lying in bed most of each day, venturing out when the sun set, when he’d feed the dogs and wander in the darkness through the yard, drinking the beer he’d hidden in the car – beer that had spent the day heating up and must have tasted hot as piss.

  Her mother puttered around in the house, voiceless, something less than a ghost. The garden was a weed-twisted mess. The crab-apples had fallen uncollected from the trees, rotting on the ground and filling the air with a sickly smell that would have been worse if there’d been rain. Her mother seemed to have shrivelled up and died inside. She looked old, walked old, lived old.

  When Jennifer was home – as little as possible – she stayed in her room playing records continuously to keep the silence away, and to keep herself from straining to hear anything that might break that silence. She was sick of being tense, coiled tight inside, sick of that kind of exhaustion. Better just to shut it out.

  Though the morning was warm, promising a sweltering day, she wore her jean jacket. It had an inside pocket, where she kept her cigarettes. She’d broken the rule of no smoking on school grounds enough times to make getting caught a tried, familiar and harmless ritual. Principal Thompson hadn’t even bothered calling her into his office towards the end of last year.

  But there was a new teacher, Miss Rhide, who’d already sent a letter to their house – expressing concern over Jennifer’s difficult circumstances at home, promising support and understanding and that things would be different now, because she took her class very seriously, and felt very responsible to them, to their needs and to their individual circumstances. She was so very looking forward to the coming school year. She and her class were embarking on a wonderful and challenging journey together, and she was very pleased to have Jennifer joining in that journey.

  Very this, very that. Very very very. Christ. So very … breathless!

  She approached the highway. The morning traffic was a steady stream. She watched a school bus go by. Most of the students came in that way. She thought of the class that would meet poor Miss Rhide. Barb had been caught outside the Riverview Community Centre with a baggie of grass. A local scandal. Her supplier got busted an hour later. Big surprise. Sandy had tried running away from home. She’d made it into the city, then had panicked, phoning her father from a lobby in a seedy Main Street hotel. And then there was Jennifer herself, with a thick file folder with her name on it. Poor, poor Miss Rhide.

  She neared the traffic lights. Lynk and Roland had their bright orange patrol belts on, herding the local little kids into a tight knot on the highway’s gravel shoulder. Carl manned the button that would change the lights. Jennifer looked for Owen but didn’t see him. She came to the group but stood slightly away from it, scanning over the heads of the kids, trying to see Owen on the playground on the other side of the highway.

  Lynk ignored her, but Roland nodded in greeting.

  ‘Seen Owen?’ Jennifer asked.

  He shook his head.

  ‘Tell him I’m behind the school.’

  ‘You going to be there until the bell rings?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Lynk was the first to march out when the lights changed. He stood wide-stanced in the middle of the highway. Roland directed the group across, then ran back to where Carl waited. Lynk followed once all the kids had crossed.

  Jennifer entered the school grounds with the usual sense of dread and disgust. Off to her right the seventh-, eighth- and ninth-graders stood outside the smudged entrance of the Old Building, their drab, cool clothes a perfect match with the pitted limestone walls flanking the doors. Some of them looked her way, a couple nodded, a few laughed.

  She’d be over there next year, and it’d be like crossing a chasm. In a way, she dreaded that as much as another year in the Sixth Grade. But at least they had regular classrooms.

  Miss Obell was the morning’s playground monitor. That meant Jennifer would be safe enough sneaking a smoke behind the school. ‘Oh-Hell Obell’ rarely bothered leaving the front grounds, keeping herself stationary like a planet orbited by a dozen chattering, vying moons – little kids all wanting to hold her hand.

  Jennifer felt Obell’s gaze on her as she headed around the school’s side. Yes, Miss Obell. Another year. Thought I’d be gone by now, I bet. Fat chance. Any words of advice for Miss Rhide? Didn’t think so.

  Barb and Sandy were already there, hanging out with Gary from Riverview.

  ‘Got a smoke?’ Barb asked, her face flushed.

  ‘Who, me?’ Jennifer reached for them. ‘Imagine,’ she said, looking up at the featureless wall, ‘building a school with no windows.’

  ‘You mean a fucking jail,’ Gary said. His stringy brown hair was longer than the last time she’d seen him, down past his bony shoulders. Bright shiny pimples pocked his broad, flat face.

  ‘You flunked too, eh?’

  He shrugged, turning to spit against the wall. ‘Fuck school. As soon as I’m sixteen I’m out. Work for my dad at his plant.’

  His plant. Says it all. Who needs brains when you got a rich old man?

  Gary grinned, showing his chipped teeth. ‘Hear you got a boyfriend. Some new kid, some fucker from the city.’

  ‘You should stop eating all those chocolate bars,’ Jennifer said.

  Gary turned bright red. ‘Fuck you. Fuck him. Fucking slut.’

  ‘Go jerk off in a corner,’ Jennifer said. ‘That’s all you’ll ever get.’

  Barb’s laugh pierced the air.

  Gary walked away, jamming his hands into his jean pockets, hunching his shoulders.

  ‘I saw our new teacher,’ Barb said, pulling fiercely on her cigarette. ‘She’s a horse. All freckles and hair. A beanpole.’

  ‘That’s not fair,’ Sandy said quickly. ‘She might be all right, how do you know? You don’t know anything. You just saw her once, didn’t you?’

  Jennifer and Barb stared at her.

  Sandy continued, her eyes darting from one friend to the ot
her. ‘I’m supposed to be nice. I’ve been canned for six months. So I’m gonna be nice to her. Get good grades. Top grades.’

  ‘So?’ Barb scowled. ‘You’ll still be canned for six months.’

  ‘Maybe, maybe not. I’m gonna be top of the class. Watch me. I’ll put my hand up every time. I’ll be first in line. I’ll do all my homework and I’ll bring in assignments days early. I can read a book a day, easy. One a day.’ She stopped to draw breath.

  Jennifer stepped close, studying Sandy’s pinpoint eyes. ‘You’re on speed, aren’t you? Christ, it’s the first day, Sandy!’

  ‘You just watch me. My old man – when he sees my report card, he’ll shit himself and I won’t be canned any more. He’ll say do what you want, whatever you fucking want—’

  Jennifer and Barb looked at each other and burst out laughing. A moment later, after staring with wide eyes, Sandy joined in.

  Jennifer laughed harder as Sandy doubled over in a giggling fit.

  The bell rang. Kids started making their way towards the front of the school. Jennifer and her friends remained where they were. Sandy was laughing so hard Jennifer wondered if she was going to pee her pants.

  Miss Obell appeared around the corner. She saw them and approached. ‘Bell’s rung, girls. Jennifer, are things going to be better this year? I see butts on the ground. Not a good start.’

  ‘Not us,’ Jennifer said, wiping tears from her cheeks. ‘Could’ve been here for days.’

  ‘Of course. Sandy and Barb now, too. Satisfied that your friends are as hooked as you? I’d have thought Barb here would have learned her lesson. As for you, Jennifer, something tells me you’ll never learn.’

  ‘That’s the spirit,’ Jennifer said.

  Miss Obell’s thin lips straightened into a tight line, the usual flush on her round face deepening a shade. ‘Well, you’ve got a point there, Jennifer. You’re smart, no question about that. I guess that’s what makes it such a shame. Come along now. You don’t want to be late.’

  Sandy had recovered but now looked jittery. Paranoid. Jennifer felt herself getting nervous in response. Sandy wasn’t in any shape to handle anything. Oh, Miss Rhide …

  They followed Oh-Hell Obell into the school.

  * * *

  Owen wasn’t there. Miss Rhide’s long, pale face wrinkled into a frown at the silence following her reading his name on the roll-call. She looked up and scanned the faces staring back at her. ‘Does anyone know Owen Brand? I understand he’s a new student.’

  Jennifer saw Roland raise his hand.

  ‘I know him.’

  Rhide checked the sheet of paper in her reddish hands. ‘And your name is…’

  ‘Roland Fraser.’

  ‘Oh yes, of course. Well, do you have any idea why Owen isn’t here today?’

  ‘No, ma’am.’

  Others giggled at the ma’am. He’s so sweet. Not my type, but sweet. Jennifer leaned back in her chair – fibreglass, blue-grey and new, as were the desks, triangular with three kids to each one, with plastic drawers suspended in a metal cage under them. The carpet was also new, in the same blue-grey tones. Movable dividers separated the ‘rooms’. The air seemed to shiver with all the noise, buzzing, washing like waves, a noise that seeped into the head and stayed there. The room itself was bigger than a gymnasium. At least fifteen separate classes, maybe more. Jennifer felt like a bee in a hive that someone had just kicked.

  Rhide finished the roll-call. ‘Now then,’ she said, smiling as she rose from the stool she’d been sitting on, which was planted in front of her desk. ‘I would like everyone to gather around, here, cross-legged on the carpet.’

  Jennifer rolled her eyes. Unbelievable.

  The kids began rising uncertainly from their seats, then, seeing Principal Thompson approaching with Owen, they hesitated. The man gestured and Rhide joined him. He said something, bending close and whispering. Rhide nodded, smiled down at Owen, who ignored her completely as he scanned the class until he found Jennifer.

  She grinned. He grinned back.

  Rhide returned to the front of the class. Principal Thompson left, and Owen found a seat.

  ‘Okay, everyone come and sit down now,’ Rhide said. She waited while the twenty or so kids moved to the floor, some jostling for position at the very front, others hunting around as if to find a place to hide. Jennifer placed herself at the back, closest to the desks, farthest from Rhide’s beaming face. Owen made his way over and sat down, cross-legged, his knee touching Jennifer’s.

  Rhide perched herself back on the stool. Her knees looked bony under the mauve nylons as she rested her clasped hands on them. ‘Now then, everyone comfortable? Since we have a student new to the school, I think it would be nice for everyone if he would tell us something about himself. Owen?’

  Yeah, Owen, tell them how I taught you to lick between my legs.

  His expression revealed nothing. ‘I’ve been here in Middlecross since last spring.’ He gave his shoulders a loose toss. ‘That’s about it.’

  Rhide blinked. ‘Well, what are your interests? Hobbies, sports?’

  Owen’s face assumed a scowl that Jennifer found wonderfully familiar. ‘No,’ he said.

  ‘No?’

  ‘No. Nothing special. Middlecross doesn’t have a baseball team, doesn’t have a hockey team, or a football team. The nearest ones are in Riverview. Why would I go out there? Middlecross is in between everything … uh, I forget your name – the principal, I forget his name, too, but he told me yours, only I forget.’

  ‘Miss Rhide,’ Jennifer informed him.

  Owen nodded, then continued. ‘Miss Rhide. As for hobbies, I have the usual ones. I don’t hide in the basement with them. I don’t have fish or model trains. I don’t collect stamps or coins or bubblegum cards. So,’ he finished, ‘nothing special.’

  Rhide said, ‘I do recall from your file some comments from your last teacher, saying that you read a lot – some very advanced books, in fact.’

  Owen’s scowl deepened and the teacher seemed almost to flinch from it. ‘That’s not a hobby,’ he said.

  ‘No. That’s true. Can you tell us what book you’re reading now?’

  ‘Goldfinger, by Ian Fleming. It’s a spy novel. James Bond and Blofeld and Pussy Galore.’

  ‘What?’

  His face was innocent as he said, ‘That’s her name, Miss Rhide.’ But Jennifer saw the laughter hiding behind it – he was pleased, delighted to have shocked her so.

  ‘Um, I don’t know if those kinds of books are worth reading.’

  Owen shrugged. ‘Then don’t read them. What do you read?’

  She looked taken aback, rattled. ‘Well, textbooks, mostly.’

  ‘Oh,’ Owen said. Somehow he managed to pack a lot into that single word, and Jennifer saw Rhide’s face redden. Her long fingers looked blue at the tips where they fidgeted on her knee. Her watery eyes were wide. She clasped her hands more tightly together and smiled at the class.

  ‘Well, thank you, Owen. Now let’s move on, shall we? I know this will be a very special year, and I hope you’re as excited as I am. You’ll be having classes in a number of different subjects, and just like in Junior High, you’ll have different teachers for some of them.’

  She went on, the sixth-graders cross-legged on the carpet, getting numb and their brains racing with fear. It was new. They didn’t want new. Their teacher tried to make it sound exciting and that was like a klaxon, sounding the alarm. It was complicated, this new programme. Confusing. Jennifer could sense the unease around her, and she understood why. This changing rooms, changing teachers, it was all supposed to happen next year. They’d be in a different building. They’d be expecting changes. This, this wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. It was unfair.

  Jennifer wanted to laugh. It was also a mess. Taking your desk drawers with you, crowding the aisles between the dividers as you went from one area to the next. A giant game of musical chairs.

  Mr Lyle would teach the maths and science. Mi
ss Obell taught French and music. Rhide herself handled social studies and English.

  What a circus.

  Jennifer had been casually edging closer to Owen during Rhide’s breathless speech, which seemed like it was never going to end, as if as soon as she began running down someone would come around and wind her back up so she could go on and on and on. Jennifer slid her hand under Owen’s bum, probed with her fingers.

  He shot her a surprised look, then returned his attention to worrying a loose flap of rubber on his sneakers.

  His breath quickened, though, and the colour rose on his cheeks.

  Directly in front of Jennifer sat Barb, playing with her stringy curls. Near by, Sandy looked to have buzzed right out of the picture. Roland was falling asleep, while Lynk seemed all ears, his eyes bright. Gary, sitting behind Carl, was doing something that made Carl uncomfortable – she could guess, but she leaned back slightly to confirm that Gary had pulled Carl’s underwear up and was giving it sharp tugs every time Rhide’s attention was elsewhere.

  Jennifer reached farther under Owen, her fingertips finding his crotch.

  He leaned over. ‘Cut it out,’ he whispered.

  ‘Why were you late?’ she hissed back.

  He scowled. ‘School starts at nine in the city. Not eight-thirty.’

  ‘Excuse me,’ Rhide said sharply, her eyes on them, the endless ramble interrupted. ‘Jennifer Louper and Owen Brand—’

  ‘Sittin’ in the tree!’ Sandy yelled. ‘K-I-S-S-I-N-G!’

  The whole class erupted into peals of laughter. The surrounding hum from the other areas fell away as people turned to look.

  Rhide’s face went white. ‘Quiet, please! I won’t tolerate this!’

  Everyone settled down, except for Sandy, who couldn’t stop laughing. As soon as she seemed to gain control of herself, she’d look up at Rhide and explode into a new, helpless fit, doubling over, arms wrapped around her stomach.

  Rhide’s voice was brittle. ‘Very well,’ she said, rising from the stool. ‘I think you’d better come with me.’

  The students parted as she walked through the group and collected Sandy, who had managed to climb to her feet, her face beet-red and the tears streaming from her eyes. She jerked as Rhide laid a hand on her shoulder. It was hard to tell whether she was laughing now or crying. Jennifer saw a look of fear in her eyes – not of getting into trouble, but of how she was feeling inside.