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Authors: Simon French

My Cousin's Keeper

BOOK: My Cousin's Keeper
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Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

We're brothers, we are
.

That's what he had said. Suddenly, his arm was around my shoulder as we knelt together on my bedroom floor, surrounded by most of my toys. He had looked up at my mom as she held her camera to take the photo, and that's exactly what came out of his mouth when the camera flash went off. In the photo, he was smiling, although his eyes didn't seem to. In the photo, my mouth was open and I looked a little surprised.

In truth, I remembered being angry. This boy, who I didn't know, had snuck away from everybody else in our backyard and found my bedroom. He had found all my toys as well, and by the time I discovered him, nearly everything I liked and played with was spread across my bedroom.

“This is my room,” I had told him. “Leave my things alone!” And I had knelt down to start gathering up my favorite things. Mom had appeared in the doorway at that moment and taken the photo, not realizing how annoyed I was.

Afterward, I had shaken the boy's arm away from my shoulder and said in amazement, “I'm not your brother. I don't even know you.”

“You should have asked Kieran first,” Mom told the boy gently. “This is Kieran's room, and these are his things.” And to me, she added, “
Is
there something you don't mind him playing with, Kieran?” Then she reminded me who this stranger was. It was Bon, my cousin. “He's our guest, and I want you to look after him a little,” Mom instructed.

But I didn't want him in my room, and I didn't want to be anywhere near him. He had said something completely strange and untrue. He had even
hugged
me. Bon was nearly the same age as me; I already knew that. For a moment I studied his face to see if there
was
any kind of resemblance. “I don't want you in here. Go away,” I muttered.

Bon looked at me blankly, as though I had spoken another language. Up close, he smelled a little of sweat and pee. His shirt was faded and coming apart at the edges, and his socks showed through the torn tips of his sneakers. His hair was longer than mine, and it was tied back into a blond ponytail. He wasn't the sort of cousin I had expected, and I didn't know why he and his mom had suddenly turned up at my dad's birthday barbecue. And Mom was surprised to see her older sister after so many years.

Later in the evening, after lots of people had left and it was mostly Dad's soccer friends gathered around the last of the beer and food, Mom said to me, “Kieran, you know that was probably the most toys your cousin had ever laid eyes on in his life.”

“I don't care,” I grumbled. “He just came in and touched everything without asking. He wasn't even invited in the first place.”

“It wasn't his fault,” Mom answered. “None of us had any idea Bon and Renee would show up.”

Dad's birthday barbecue had begun in the usual way. Nan had been at our house and in the kitchen almost right after breakfast, helping Mom prepare party snacks and salads. Early afternoon, the neighbors strolled over from next door, and then our friends from around town, with their kids. A couple of Dad's work friends from Rural Engineering arrived together, and as our backyard began to fill up, the talk and laughter grew louder and louder. A lot of us kids climbed through the wire strands of the back fence to play games on the strip of grass that ran along behind the houses in our street — except for some of the little girls who stayed in the backyard to play with my sister, Gina.

When most of Dad's soccer team arrived, the noise got even louder. The season wasn't due to start for another two weeks, so a long afternoon and a late night wasn't going to affect a weekend game. As cooking smells from the barbecue began to drift across to where we played in the back, the team sang Dad a funny and rude birthday song. Even Nan laughed.

And then someone else arrived. I couldn't remember Aunt Renee, but at first I wanted to like her. She was so unlike Mom, a different shape and size, with a louder way of speaking. She dressed differently from Mom, too: in a leather jacket, jeans, and black buckled boots. The man she had brought with her was dressed much the same. I didn't take a lot of notice of Bon, because I was more interested in my aunt's jacket and the tattoo I could see peeking out from under her sleeve. Mom and Nan walked over to say hello and give my aunt a kiss, but Mom's voice sounded a bit awkward as she made some introductions to the people nearest.

“We were just traveling through,” my aunt said. “If we'd known there was a birthday happening, we would have brought something.”

“Good to see you again, Renee,” my nan said, not sounding as though she meant it. “It's been a while.” Already I had seen her lean over to kiss Bon, and now she held him close, hugging him so that, for a few moments at least, he was unable to move.

“God, this one's grown,” my aunt remarked, pointing at me. “Kieran, isn't it? Last time I saw him he was just about still in diapers.”

“Bon's grown up a lot, too,” Mom answered. “It's been far too long since we've seen you both.” But my aunt was already busy showering attention on Gina and saying how pretty she looked. I knew it was the first time she had ever seen my little sister.

I had heard Aunt Renee talked about, mostly when adults thought I hadn't been listening. She was my mom's older sister, quite a bit older, and I remembered that some of the Christmas cards Mom had mailed her had come back with a
RETURN TO SENDER
stamp on them. My aunt seemed to move a lot.

I asked Mom quietly if the man my aunt had brought along to Dad's birthday was my uncle. “No, definitely not!” she told me.

Nan had a photo of Bon, just the one. It was a baby photo, kept on her fridge door, in a colorful magnetic frame. I'd often looked at that photo and wondered about the cousin I didn't know.

Bon hadn't followed us kids back out to the grassy strip after we'd come in to raid the food. He poked around our backyard and seemed a bit lost at first, but then went and stood with Gina and her little friends. When I saw him next, he was over at the food table, busily eating handfuls of chips, crackers, and dips. He spent quite a bit of time doing this, and I wondered if he was being greedy or was just really hungry.

Then I heard my aunt's voice. “Are you listening to me?” It was unexpectedly loud and angry, and I looked over in time to see her with one hand clenched around Bon's face. Her fingers pressed tightly into his cheeks so that his mouth opened a little.

Aunt Renee looked furious. “I told you to behave,” she said through clenched teeth. All our guests stopped talking for a moment, and some of them looked a bit shocked. But Bon looked away from his mother as though nothing had happened. I expected him to rub his sore face, or even to cry. Instead, he gazed into space, as his shoulders and arms flopped around a little, before his mother let go of him. He said nothing.

Nan walked over and
did
say something, but my aunt replied, “No, don't tell me what to do. He's my kid.”

Nan looked anxiously at Bon, then reached over and ran her hand gently across his shoulder. My aunt glared. Gradually, uncomfortably, people began to talk again, until the party found its noise and laughter once more. When I looked next, I could see Bon walking through the back door and into our house, not knowing at that moment he had been on his way to my bedroom and my toys.

We're brothers, we are.

“He said that weird thing, too,” I reminded Mom.

“He's probably quite lonely,” she replied. “And, quite likely, he was excited about finally meeting his cousins.” Mom paused. “Thank you for letting him play with some of your things.”

“I didn't
want
him to,” I said. “It wasn't like he asked first.” I paused and frowned. “Will they visit us again?”

Mom answered quietly. “I hope so, for Bon's sake. As for Renee . . .”

Another uncomfortable thought came back to me. “She
hurt
him.” I had never seen an adult do that before. Sometimes in stores I had heard other parents yell at their kids or smack them on the hand, especially some of the teenagers who pushed strollers or led little processions of toddlers. “She was hurting him,” I said again, trying to make sense of it. “His face —”

“I'm sorry you saw that,” Mom said. “He wasn't being naughty; he was probably just plain hungry.”

My aunt had not stayed long at our party, either. I remembered that.

“Time for us to get back on the road,” the boyfriend said after Dad had blown the candles out on his chocolate mud cake. The good-byes were brief, and the three of them left almost as unexpectedly as they had arrived. I had walked with Nan and my parents to the driveway gate to see them off, to watch the boyfriend's big black pickup take them to the end of our street and then away out of town. They had sat in the single front seat together, but my cousin, jammed in the middle, was the only one who turned and looked back. He didn't wave; he simply stared at us through the window, all the way to the corner. It was as though he had wanted to stay behind. I was glad he hadn't. Then I happened to look at Nan waving, her face looking as sad as I thought I'd ever seen it. “That poor child,” she had said, her voice soft and defeated.

BOOK: My Cousin's Keeper
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