to reply, but Blaine beat her to it. “She’s new.”
Paula looked Terra up and down, then shrugged. “Whatever.” She walked off.
“Um. I should probably get going.”
Pete flicked the butt of the cigarette down and ground it out with his heel. “See ya.”
Blaine gave her a half-wave.
Terra waved hesitantly too and started walking towards home. These kids were strange.
To her surprise, she heard a deep voice calling her name. “Terra!”
Glenn ran up behind her. “Hey there! How’s it going?”
She gave a nervous laugh. “Okay. You?”
“Good!” He paused. “So, I saw you with those kids. You a smoker?”
“No . . . no. My parents would freak out. Um . . . are you?”
“Naw,” he shook his head. “Well, not any more.”
She wanted to ask more but wasn’t sure how to phrase it.
“Are you making many friends?”
Terra thought of the kids in the park. “A few.”
Glenn nodded. “Those girls I introduced you to—they’re cool.”
Terra thought of the disastrous encounter with Tracy in the cafeteria. “Yeah, they seemed . . . nice,” she responded lamely.
“So are you heading home?” Glenn gestured ahead of them.
“Yeah, it’s just a couple of blocks this way.”
“You mind if I walk with you?”
“Sure,” Terra stammered, flustered. Quickly, she added: “I mean, sure it’s okay. Sure it’s okay.”
She was still smiling when she walked through her front door into the foyer, but she stopped suddenly when the door banged into a ladder.
“Whoa.” Fred climbed laboriously down the ladder with a bucket of rose-colored paint in his hand. “I’m glad this didn’t fall on you.”
Terra blinked at him. “Yeah, me too. It’s not my colour.”
Fred laughed and set the can of paint on the floor. “Hey, that’s a good one. Not your colour . . .”
“Hey, Fred. There’s a really pretty bird outside, I was wondering if you know what kind it is.”
“Oh, yeah? What does it look like?” Fred walked over to the front entrance window and craned his head, for a sight of the bird.
“It’s black and white—it’s very striking.”
“Black and white? Black and white?!” He drew his eyebrows together, almost ferociously. “A magpie? You think a magpie is a pretty bird?!”
“I guess. You don’t like magpies?”
“Not really. They’re scavengers, like rats of the air.”
“Oh,” Terra blinked. “I thought they looked nice.”
“Mind you,” Fred continued thoughtfully. “Not that we have rats . . .”
“What?”
“Rats are illegal in Alberta.”
Terra laughed, thinking he was joking. “What do you mean?”
“Alberta is a rat-free province.”
She frowned. “But rats are everywhere, aren’t they?”
“Not in Alberta,” said Fred firmly. “I heard they can’t get across the mountains.”
“But what keeps them from crossing the Saskatchewan border?”
“The rat police.”
“What?” Terra giggled.
“I’m serious. There are rat police that patrol border farms, to kill any rats that might cross into the province.”
“Um . . .” Terra squinted at him, to see if he could possibly be kidding. But he looked serious.
“Why?”
“They carry diseases. Eat house foundations . . . you know, bad stuff.”
“I never heard of rats eating foundations in Ontario.”
“Well, we keep them out here . . . with the rat police,” Fred added cheerily.
Dear Diary:
I was told today that rats are illegal in Alberta. Do you think that can be true?”
My parents picked PINK for the walls in the front entranceway. I told Mom I hate pink, but she said it’s not pink, it’s rose. Isn’t that the same thing? Dad said just to think of it as slightly reddish off-white, but there’s no getting around it—it’s pink.
Why do girls get stuck with pukey pink anyhow? What makes pink more feminine than any of the good colours, like forest green or royal blue?
Glenn walked me home today—the first time a boy ever walked me home from school, unless you count Matthew from Grade Four. But then again, he was a really small kid, and I think he saw me as protection from the Grade Five bullies. I wonder who he’s walking home with now? Maybe he’s grown . . . ?
Did I mention that Glenn is really cute?
I hung out after school today with a girl named Blaine, from my math class. She smokes and seems to have a weird boyfriend, but at least she talks to me, sort of . . .
four
So what do you think?” Blaine did a little twirl in front of the store’s triple mirror. The jeans outlined her slim shape, then flared a bit at the bottoms.
“They’re really nice,” said Terra, eyeing a dark purple blouse. Maybe she could talk her mom into a shopping trip one day soon. “Are you going to buy them?”
Blaine frowned, sighed. “I can’t really afford them.” She brightened. “But I guess I could always return them.” She darted back into the changeroom to pull off the jeans.
Terra frowned. “What do you mean?” she called through the door.
“Well, I could wear them out with Pete on Friday, and then return them on Monday. As long as I don’t cut off the tags or spill something on them, it shouldn’t be a problem.”
Terra felt a small
