Lucan and settled in their new home.”
The judged peered over his tilted glasses as Mr. Roberts continued. “Prior arrangements have been made for Jason to assist his grandfather in a community history project to update the archives at the new museum wing being set up in Lucan. He’ll also be involved in community research and service for senior citizens at the Lucan nursing home.”
I looked sharply at Mr. Roberts and then at Dad, who returned my gaze and nodded briefly to let me know the decision was final.
“Your request is granted!” the judge said. “Court adjourned!”
Mom cried softly as Jennifer dashed through the swinging gate that separated the spectators’ seating from the court area and threw her arms around my neck. I returned the warm hug. Mom soon joined us, and we stood in a group clinch for several minutes.
I watched Dad over Mom’s shoulder. Slowly, he rose from his seat. He seemed older to me — more stooped and paler than before. I clutched Mom and Jennifer more tightly as Dad moved toward us. I waited. Dad touched my shoulder and smiled. I recognized the familiar glint in his eyes. He was a caring man, and I knew he’d forgiven me.
The pangs of guilt started almost immediately as Dad led us to the back of the courthouse. They increased as we stepped into the freezing wind whipping around the parking lot. Even the warmth of a heated car and my family’s forgiveness didn’t diminish the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. How would I ever repay my family for its love and support? The task seemed impossible. I didn’t know where to turn for advice or comfort. My guilt had even pushed Jennifer away.
The family sat silently in the car as we drove home for one of the last times. As Mr. Roberts had said, we planned to leave in a couple of days for Lucan. Dad was taking a job as a freelance writer and photographer with the local Lucan newspaper. Mom began her new nursing job in nearby London soon, too.
Mixed with the guilt was the resentment of the move. Jennifer and I had been born in Toronto and had lived our whole lives in the small two-storey three-bedroom house in suburban Etobicoke. Since the trial had begun, I’d had no time to really say goodbye to my friends, especially my best one, Sam.
To top it off, working with Granddad on a community history project appealed even less to me. I knew it would only be three or four hours on Saturdays after the museum closed, and that by March break my sentence would end, but Granddad, a retired history teacher from the local high school, was rather eccentric.
On previous visits I’d noticed that people politely smiled with what appeared to be pity upon greeting Granddad. I saw, too, that they shrugged and shook their heads as they passed by. I loved Granddad dearly, but his research project on the Donnellys, an Irish-Canadian family that had been slaughtered by a vigilante mob more than a hundred years ago, and the ghostly sightings at their former homestead, only made people see him as a kook even more. On some occasions, unknown to Mom and Dad, teenagers teased Granddad in downtown Lucan. Nothing serious enough to call the police, but enough to make me angry and embarrassed.
Granddad always laughed them off, simply saying, “Kids will be kids!”
As soon as Dad turned into our driveway and shut off the engine, I pushed open the rear passenger door and stalked into the house. Jennifer tried to catch me as I fumbled with the key in the lock, but I broke away from her, went inside, scrambled up the stairs, and slammed my bedroom door. Turning on my stereo, I parted the curtains to look at my family, who were still outside. I never wanted to hurt anyone — especially Jennifer — but that’s exactly what I did every time.
My sister was wiping away tears as she leaned against Mom’s shoulder. When my stereo erupted in an echoing thud of heavy metal music, Jennifer glanced up at my window. Quickly, I jerked the curtains closed.
“Let him be for now!” I heard my dad say as he tried to soothe Jennifer. “He’ll be fine in a day or two. You’ll see!”
Chapter 2
A couple of days later I awoke with a terrific headache. Opening one eye, I glanced at my bedside radio clock — 7:30 a.m.! I sat up. How could that be? Hadn’t I just gone to sleep? Rubbing sleep from my eyes, I heard a relentless pounding that wasn’t in my head.
“Jason!” I recognized Jennifer’s voice. “Get up! Dad wants to take us out for breakfast before the movers get here.”
“Go away!”
It was moving day. We really were going to Lucan. Anger flooded through me again. I knew I’d been particularly mean to Jennifer and unfair to my parents the past few days, but it was my life, too. What right did they have to take me away from my home and friends just because they thought it would be good for me?
“Come on!” she pleaded. “Mom and Dad are waiting.” “Tell them no thanks!” I snarled. “I’m going to stay behind.”
“Jason!”
“Get lost, Stilts!”
I threw my pillow at the opening door. In my sleepy stupor I missed and knocked the lamp off the bookcase, which grazed Jennifer’s shoulder as it crashed to the floor. I froze under Jennifer’s stare. What was I doing?
Jennifer and I could always talk in the past. Now I tried to speak, explain things, but my jaw just flapped. I got off my bed and reached out to Jennifer as tears welled in her eyes, but she turned away and slammed the door behind her.
Slumping back onto the bed, I started punching the other pillow. I hit it even harder when I heard Dad ask in the hallway, “Jennifer, where’s Jason?”
“He’s not coming!” Jennifer said, seething.
“Not coming? We’ll see about that. Jason, get down here!”
I wrapped the pillow around my ears and covered my head with the blanket as I waited for him to burst into the room. I really couldn’t blame him for being angry, but I didn’t care. Instead I steeled myself for another fight with him.
“Wait, Tom!” I heard my mother say. “Let him be. He needs time.”
“But, Ellen!” Then he sighed. “Come on, Jennifer, get your coat. I’m buying breakfast.”
When I heard the front door close, I slipped off my bed, went over to the window, and looked out. Mom and Jennifer were walking arm in arm ahead of Dad. Jennifer rested her head on my mother’s shoulder, a burst of frosty breath shrouding her. Dad tightened the scarf around his neck and buttoned his overcoat. Before climbing into the car, he glanced up at my window. At first he seemed dejected — not angry or disappointed, just sad. Then, slowly, he raised a hand in a gentle wave and smiled. After that he got into the car, started it, and reversed down the driveway. In a few moments the car disappeared in the morning fog.
“Why do they have to be so nice?” I muttered.
After flipping on the stereo to my usual brand of heavy metal, I flopped face first into a pillow and closed my eyes. As I lay there and let myself be enveloped by the electric skirl of guitars, I barely heard my cell phone ring. Fumbling for the phone, I picked it up, punched the talk button, and mumbled, “Hello?”
“Hey, man!” I knew Sam’s voice right away and turned down the volume on my stereo. “You must be having some kind of blast there, kiddo! What’s up?”
“You
